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THE 



POETICAL WORKS 



OF 



SAMUEL BUTLER 



TWO VOLUMES IN ONE 




BOSTON 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 



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96 

JAri-26 1945 

%v\e\ Record Division 
The Ufervy of Cooflratt 






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CONTENTS. 



VOL. I. 

{•age 

To the Rev. William Lisle Bowles v 

Mehoib of Butleb, by the Rev. J. Mitford .... vii 

Notes . . . xxxvii 

Appendix xli 

HUDIBRAS. 

Parti. Canto 1 3 

Canto U 43 

Canto m 92 

Partn. Canto 1 143 

Canto II 177 

Canto in 209 

An Heroical Epistle of Hudibras to Sidrophel .... 253 

Partm. Canto 1 259 



VOL. IL 



Part in. Canto IL 1 

Canto III 74 

An Heroical Epistle of Hudibras to his Lady .... 103 

The Lady's Answer to the Knight 11* 



11 CONTENTS. 



THE REMAINS OF BUTLER. 

Preface 133 

The Elephant in the Moon 137 

The Elephant in the Moon. In Long Verse 155 

A Satire upon the Royal Society 174 

Repartees between Cat and Puss at a Caterwimling . . 178 
To the Honourable Edward Howard, Esq. upon his in- 
comparable Poem of the British Princes 183 

A Palinodie to the Honourable Edward Howard, Esq. 

upon his incomparable Poem of the British Princes . 185 
A Panegyric upon Sir John Denham's Recovery from his 

Madness 189 

On Critics who judge of Modem Plays precisely by the 

Rules of the Ancients . 192 

Prologue to the Queen of Arragon, acted before the Duke 

of York, upon his Birthday 196 

Epilogue to the same 197 

On Philip Nye's Thanksgiving Beard 198 

Satire upon the Weakness and Misery of Man , , . 203 

Satire upon the Licentious Age of Charles U. ... 212 

Satire upon Gaming 219 

Satire: To a bad Poet 223 

Satire upon our ridiculous Imitation of the French . . 227 

Satire upon Drunkenness 232 

Satire upon Maniage 236 

Satire upon Plagiaries 240 

Satire upon the Imperfection and Abuse of Human Learn- 
ing. Part 1 247 

Fragments of an intended Second Part of the foregoing 

Satire 255 

On a Hypocritical Nonconformist 267 

On Modern Critics 276 

To the Happy Memory of the most renowned Du-Val. . 281 
A Ballad upon the Parliament which deliberated about 

making Oliver King 289 

A Ballad, in Two Parts, conjectured to be on Oliver 

Cromwell. Part 1 291 

Part n 294 



CONTENTS. Ill 

Miscellaneous Thoughts •••••...,,. 297 

Triplets upon Avarice 328 

Description of Holland ••••• 328 

To his Mistress .••••••••..... 329 

To the same ...*••• 330 

Epigram on a Club of Sots 330 

Hudibras's Elegy • 330 

Hudibras's Epitaph 335 



10 THE REV. WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES, 

OAKON or BAUSBUBT, ETC 



iTnhonotjr'd lay poor Butler's nameless grave, 
One line, the hand of pitying friendship gave. 
'Twas his with pure confiding heart to trust 
The flattering minions of a monarch's lust ; 
And hope that faith a private debt would own, 
False to the honour of a nation's throne. 

Such were the lines insulted virtue pour'd, 
And such the wealth of wit's exhaustless hoard ; 
Of keenest wisdom dallying with her scorn, 
And playful jest of indignation born ; 
And honest hatred of that godless crew, 
To king, to country — to themselves untrue: 
The hands that laid the blameless mitre low, 
That gave great Wentworth to the headsman's 

blow, 
And theirs the deed immortalized in shame, 
Which raised a monarch to a martyi*'s name. 

Oh! friend! with me thy thoughtful sorrows 
join, 
Thy heart will ansver each desponding line ; 
Say, when thy hand o'er Ken's neglected grave 
A-t once the flowers of love and learning gave ; 



VI 



Or when was heard, beneath each listening tree, 
The lute sweet Ai-chimage had lent to thee : 
Saj, while thy day was like a summer dream, 
And musing leisure met thee by the stream, 
"NYhere thro' rich weeds the lulling waters crept, 
And the huge forest's massive umbrage slept, 
And, summon'd by thy harp's aerial spell. 
The shadowy tribes came trooping from their cell , 
(For still 'twas thine, with all a poet's art. 
To paint the living landscape of the heart ; 
And still to nature's soft enchantments true. 
Feel every charm, and catch each varying hue ;) 
Couldst thou foresee how soon the poet's strain 
Would wake its satire into truth again; 
How soon the still-revolving wheel of time 
Recall the past — each folly, and each crime ; 
Again the petty tyrant boast his flame. 
And raise, on fancied ills, a patriot's name ; 
How soon the trembling altar fade away, 
The hallow'd temple prove the spoiler's prey ; 
The throne its proud ancestral honours yield. 
And faction shake the senate and the field ; 
How folly seize, while bleeding freedom wept, 
That sacred ark which jealous wisdom kept ; 
Which, virtuous Falkland ! saw thy banners wave, 
Which Somers lived, and Chatham died to save ; 
While history points her awful page in vain, 
And sees all Butler scorn'd, revive again. 

J. M. 

Benhall, Feb. 1835. 



LIFE OF SAMUEL BUTLER. 

BY THE REV. JOHN MITFORD. 

Samuel Butler, the author of Hudibras, wjis 
born in the parish of Strensham, in Worcester- 
sliire, in 1612,* and christened February the 14th. 
A. Wood says, that his father was competently 
wealthy ;t but the anonymous author of a life 
prefixed to his Poems describes him as in the 
condition of a yeoman, possessing a very small 
estate, and renting another; who with difficulty 
found means to educate his son at the grammar- 
school at Worcester, under Mr. Henry Bright, a 
man of high reputation as a scholar, and a Pre- 
bendary of the Cathedral. Butler is said to have 

* This date is contradicted by Charles Longueville, tlie 
Bon of Butler's friend, and who declared that the poet was 
bom in 1600. Nash dates his baptism February 8, 1612, 
and says it is entered in the writing of Nash's father, who 
was churchwarden : he had four sons and three daughters; 
the three daughters and one son older than the poet. 

t Dr. Nash discovered that his father was owner of a 
Uouse and a little land, worth about lOL a year, still 
called Butler's tenement^ of which he has given an engrav- 
!ng in the title page of his first volume. A. Wood affirms 
that he had a competent estate of nearly 300Z. a year, 
but held on lease of WiUiam Russell, lord of the manor of 
Strensham. 



Viii LIFE OF BUTLER. 

gone from tlience to Cambridge,* with the cha- 
racter of a good scholar ; but the period and place 
of his residence seem alike unknown, and indeed 
it appears doubtful whether he ever received the 
advantages of an academical education. 

For some time he was clerk to Mr. JefFerys, of 
Earls Croomb, in Worcestershire, an eminent 
justice of the peace. He employed the ample 
leisure which his situation afforded in study; 
while he also cultivated the arts of painting and 
music. " The Hogarth of poetry," says Walpole, 
" was a painter too : " his love of the pencil intro- 
duced him to the acquaintance of the celebrated 
Samuel Cooper.f Some pictures were shown by the 
family as his, but we presume of no great excel- 
lence, as they were subsequently employed to stop 
broken windows. Dr. Nash says that he heard of 
a portrait of Oliver Cromwell by him. After this, 
he was recommended to the notice of the Countess 
of Kent, living at Wrest, in Bedfordshire, where 
he had not only the advantage of a library, | but 
enjoyed the conversation of the most learned man 

* A. Wood had his information from Butler's brother; 
some of his neighbours sent him to Oxford. Mr. Longue- 
ville asserted that Butler never resided at Oxford. 

t Of our English poets, Flatman and George Dyer were 
pointers. Pope also used the brush under the tuition of 
Jervas. I recollect no further imion of the arts. 

X " Butler was not acquainted with the ItaUan poets. 01 
Ruggiero he might have truly asserted what he has falselj 
told of Rinaldo." — See Neve on the Englisli Poets, p. 79. 



LIFE OF BUTLER. IX 

of his age, the great Selden. Why he subsequently 
left so advantageous and honourable a situation 
does not appear, but we find him domesticated 
under the roof of Sir Samuel Luke, at Cople, or 
Wood end, a gentleman of a very ancient family 
in Bedfordshire, one of Cromwell's officers, and a 
rigid Presbyterian. It is in this place and at this 
time that he is said to have commenced his cele- 
brated poem. His patron's house afforded him a 
gallery of living portraits, and he was fortunately 
permitted to see Puritanism in one of its strong 
holds. The keenness of his observation secured 
the fidelity of his descriptions, and enabled him 
to fill up his outline with those rich and forcible 
details, which a familiar acquaintance with the 
originals afforded; 

At the restoration of the exiled monarch, when 
loyalty expected the reward of its fidehty and 
the recompense of its losses, Butler appears to 
have suffered the same disappointment that met 
other claimants; and silently and unobtrusively 
retreating from the conflict of avarice and impor- 
tunity,* he accepted the Secretaryship to Richard, 

* It is supposed that Sir Samuel Luke is ridiculed un«Ier 
the character of Hudibras: the reason of the conjecture ia 
founded on Hudib. P. 1. c. 1. ver. 904 : — 

'Tis sung, there is a valiant M&maluke, 
In foreign land yclep'd — ; 

\nd the ballad entitled " A Tale of the Cobbler and Vicar of 
Bray," in the posthumous works, p. 285, but this ballad is 



X LIFE OF BUTLER. 

Earl of Carbiuy, Lord President of the Princi- 
pality of Wales, who made him Steward of Lud- 
low Castle, where the court of the marches was 
removed. About this time, he married Mrs. 
Herbert,* a gentlewoman of good family, but 
who liad lost most of her fortune, by placing it 
on bad securities, in those very dangerous and 
uncertain times. A. Wood says, that he was 
Secretary to George, Duke of Buckingham, when 
lie was Chancellor of Cambridge ; that the Duke 
treated him with kindness and generosity; and 

not proved to be genuine. Nash says, " he was infoi-med by 
a bencher of Gray's Inn, who had it from an acquaintance 
of Butler's, that the person intended was Sir Henry Rose- 
well, of Torr Abbey, in Devonshire," but adds, " these would 
be probable reasons to deprive Bedfordshire of the hero, did 
not Butler, in his Memoirs of 1649, give the same descrip- 
tion of Sir Samuel Luke, and in his Dunstable Downs ex- 
pressly style Sir Samuel Luke, Sir Hudibras; " the name was 
borroAved from Spenser, F.Q.ll.i.l7. 

He that made love unto the eldest dame 
Was hight Sir Hudibras, an hardy man. 

It is supposed that Lilly the astrologer was represented 
under the person of Sidrophel; though Sir Paul Neal, who 
denied Butler to be the author of Hudibras, has been men- 
tioned as the person intended. Vide Grey's Hudibras, ii. 
388. 105. 1st edit. ; and Nash's Hudibras, vol. ii. p. 308. That 
Whachum was meant for Sir George Wharton, does not ap- 
pear to rest on any proof; v. Biographia, Art. Sherborne, 
aote (B). 

* A. Wood says, that she was a widow, and that Butler 
tupported himself by her jointure, deriving nothing from the 
pnicfice of tlie law. 



LIFE OF BUTLER. XI 

that, in common with almost all men of wit and 
learning, he enjoyed the friendship of the cele- 
brated Earl of Dorset. The author of his Life, 
prefixed to his Poems, says, that the integrity of his 
life, the acuteness of his wit, and the easiness of his 
conversation, rendered him acceptable to all ; but 
that he avoided a multipUcity of acquaintance. 
The accounts both of the patronage of the Duke 
of Buckingham and the Secretaryship are disbe- 
lieved by Dr Johnson, on the following grounds : 
— "Mr. "Wycherley," says Major Packe, "liad 
always laid hold of an opportunity which offered 
of representing to the Duke of Buckingham how 
well JVIr. Butler had deserved of the royal family, 
by writing his inimitable Hudibras, and that it 
was a reproach to the Court that a person of his 
loyalty and wit should suffer in obscurity, and 
under the wants he did. The Duke always seemed 
to hearken to him with attention enough, and 
after some time undertook to recommend his pre- 
tensions to his Majesty. Mr. Wycherley, in hopes 
to keep him steady to his word, obtained of his 
Grace to name a day, when he might introduce 
that modest and unfortunate poet to his new pa- 
tron. At last an appointment was made, and the 
place of meeting was agreed to be the Roebuck. 
Mr. Butler and his friend attended accordingly ; 
the Duke joined them, but as the devil would have 
h, the door of the room where they sat was open, 
«,nd his Grace, who had seated himself near it 



Xll LIFE OF BUTLER. 

observing a pimp of his acquaintance (the creature 
too was a knight) trip by with a brace of ladies, 
immediately quitted his engagement to foUow an- 
other kind of business, at which he was more 
ready than to do good offices to those of desert, 
though no one was better qualified than he, both 
in regard to his fortune and understanding, to pro- 
tect them ; and from that time to the day of his 
death, poor Butler never found the least effect of 
his promise." 

This story may be believed or not ; to me, I con- 
fess, it appears more like a well-dressed fiction of 
"Wy cherley's than the truth ; why the accidental in- 
terruption of the interview should never after have 
been repaired, does not appear; but there is a 
better testimony in some verses of Butler, which 
were published by Mr. Thyer : " which are writ- 
ten (says Johnson) with a degree of acrimony, 
such as neglect and disappointment might natu- 
I'ally excite, and such as it would be hard to ima- 
gine Butler capable of expressing against a man 
who had any claim to his gratitude." 

In 1663, the first part of Hudibras, in three 
yantos, was published,* when more than fifty years 

* Some verses in the first edition of Hudibras were after- 
wards omitted for reasons of state, as 

Did not the learned Glynne and Maynard, 
To make good subjects traitors, strain hard. 
Was not the king, by proclamation, 
Declared a traitor thi-nugh the nation. 



LIFE OF BUTLER. XlJJ 

had matured the author's genius, and given large 
scope to his experience of mankind. It was 
speedily known at Court, through the influence 
of the Earl of Dorset.* The king praised, the 
courtiers, of course, admired, and the royalists 
greeted a production which certainly covered their 
now fallen enemies with all the derision and con- 
tempt which wit and genius could command. In 
1664, the second part appeared ; and the author, as 
well as the public, watched with anxiety for the re- 
ward which he was to receive from the gratitude 
of the king ; like the other expectants of Charles's 
bounty, which was drained off into very different 
channels, they watched in vain. Clartndon, says 
Wood, gave him reason to hope for places and 
employments of value and credit, but he never 
received them ; and the story of the king's pre- 
senting him with a purse of three hundred guineas 
appears also to rest on no competent authority. 
To compensate for the neglect of the court, 
and of a king, who, in truth, cared for no one 
but himself, and who possessed neither pubhc 
honour nor private principle, it is difficult to 
say, whether Butler may have been satisfied with 
the approbation of the people ; or how far the love 
of his art, confidence in his own genius, and a 
natural fondness for a successful production, may 
have induced him to continue his poem ; certainly 

* See Prior's Dedication to his Poems 



XIV LIFE OF BUTLER. 

in four years more he published the third part, 
which still leaves the work unfinished. What 
he ultimately intended, it is impossible to con- 
jecture from a narrative which has no consistent 
plan, or progress. He may have been wearied 
of it, or he may not have had time to continue 
it ; for he died two years after its appearance, 
on the 25th of September, in the year 1680;* 
and was buried very privately by his friend Mr. 
Longueville, in the church-yard of St. Paul, 
Covent Garden, at his private expense ; for he 
had in vain soHcited an honourable and public 
funeral in Westminster Abbey. About seven or 
eight persons followed his remains. His gra^ve, 
which, according to his desire, was six feet deep, 
was at the west end of the church-yard on 
the north side ; and the burial service was read 
over him by the learned Dr. Patrick, then minister 
of the parish, and afterwards Bishop of Ely. 
Dr. Johnson says, that 'Mr. Lowndes of the 
Treasury informed Dr. Zachary Pearce,t that 
Butler was allowed a yearly pension of a hundred 
pounds ; but this, as Johnson says, is contradicted 

* A. Wood says he died of a consumption, Oldham says 
\ie was carried off by a fever ; but as he was near four- 
(kcore, we may be spared any further investigation. Mr 
Longueville says he lived for some years in Rose Street 
Covent Garden, and probably died there : that notwithstand 
tog his disappointments he was never reduced to want or beg- 
gary, and that he did not die in any person's debt. 

t See Granger's Biog. Hist, of England, vol. iv. p. 40. 



LIFE OF BUTLER. XV 

by all tradition, by the complaints of Oldham,* and 
the reproaches of Dryden. About sixty yeai's 
after, IVIr. Barber, whose name is familiar to 
all persons conversant with the literature of that 
time, who was printer and mayor of London, 
erected a monument in Westminster Abbey to 
the poet's memory ; the inscription will prove how 
warmly he approved his principles. 

M. S. 

Samuelis Butleri, 

Qui Strenshamiae in agro Vigom. nat. 1612, 

obiit Lond. 1680. 

Vir doctus imprimis, acer, integer; 
• Operibua ingenii, non item prsemiis foelis: 
Satyrici apud nos carminis artifex egregius ; 

Quo simulatse religionis larvam detraxit, 

Et perduelliuin scelera libemrae exagitavit ; 

Scriptorum in suo genere, primus et postremus. 

Ne, cui vivo deerant fer^ omnia, 

Deessit etiam mortuo tumulus, 

Hoc tandem posito marmore, curavit 

Johannes Barber, civis Londinensis, I721.t 

* See Oldham's 'Satire against Poetry,' and Dry Jen's 
' Hind and Panther,' and Otway's ' Prologue to the Tragedy of 
Constantine the Great.' Butler twice transcribed the follow- 
ing distich in his Common-place Book : 

To think how Spenser died, how Cowley mourn'' d, 
How Butler's faith and service were return' d. 

t In the adtlitions to Pope's works, published by George 
Steevens, i. p. 13, are some lines said to be written by Pope on 
this monument erected by Barber. 

Bespect to Dryden Sheffield justly paid. 
And noble Villars Ixonour'd Gov ley's shade. 



JfVl LIFi: OF BUTLER. 

After his <leatli, tliree small volumes were pub- 
lished bearing the title of his posthumous pieces in 
verse and prose ; * they are, however, all spuri- 
ous, except the ode on Duval and two of the prose 
tracts : but the volumes subsequently given to the 
world by Mr. Thyer, keeper of the public library 
at Manchester, are genuine f and valuable. " A^ 

But whence this Barber? that a name so mean 
Should, join'd with Butler's, on a tomb be seen; 
The pyramid would better far proclaim 
To future ages humbler Settle's name ; 
Poet and patron then had been well pair'd, 
The city printer and the city bard. 

The lines also by Samuel Wesley are well known (vide Poemg, 
4to. 1736, p. 62.) 

While Butler, needy wretch, was yet aUve, 

No generous patron would a dhmer give ; 

See him, when starved to death and tum'd to dust, 

Presented with a monumental bust. 

The poet's fate is here in emblem shown. 

He ask'd for bread, and he received a stone. 

* See Delineation of Butler's Monument in Dart's West- 
minster Abbey, pi. 3, tom. 1, pp. 78, 79. With regard to the 
monument erected in 1786, when the church was repaired, at 
the expense of some of the parishioners, on the south side of 
the church (inside) with the inscription, see Nash's Life of 
Butler, xiii. See engraving of it in Nash's Life of Butler, p. 
xxxix. An engraving of the monument in Westminster Ab- 
bey is in the same work, p. 678. 

t What genuine remains of Butler Thyer did not publish, 
were all in the hands either of Dr. R. Farmer or Dr. Nash, and 
jiad been seen by Atterbiuy. See Life by Nash, xvi. James 
Massey, Esq. of Rosthern, Chesliire, had Butlei*'s Common 
place Book. Some law cases from Coke upon Littleton, drawr 



LIFE OF BUTLER. i-Vll 

lo these remains of Butler," says Warburton in 
his Letters (cxxxi), " they are certainly his ; but 
they would not strike the public, if that public 
was honest; but the public is a malicious monster, 
which cares not what it affords to dead merit, so it 
can but depress the living. There was something 
singular in this same Butler ; besides an infinite 
deal of wit, he had great sense and penetration, 
both in the sciences and in the world. Yet with 
all this, he could never plan a work or tell a story 
well. The first appears from his Hudibras ; the 
other from his Elephant in the Moon. He evi- 
dently appears to be dissatisfied with it, by turnmg 
it into long verse, but that was his forte ; the fault 
lay in the manner of telling, not but he might 
have another reason for trying his hand at heroic 
verse — emulation. Dryden had burst out in a 
surprising manner ; and, in such a case, the poet- 
ic world, as we have seen by a late instance, is 
always full of imitations. But Butler's heroics 
are poor stuff; indeed only doggerel made languid 
by heavy expletives. This attempt in the change 
of his measure was the sillier, not only as he ac- 
quired the mastery in the short measure, but as 
that measure, somehow or other, suits best with 
His sort of wit. His characters are full of cold 
puerilities, though intermixed \\ 1th abundance of 

ap in Norman-French by Butler, were bought by Dr. Nash of 
Butler's relation in Buckinghamshhe He had also a French 
lictionary compiled by him, and part of a tragedy of Nero. 
VOL. I. 2 



XVm LIFE OF BUTLER. 

wit and with a great deal of good sense. He is 
sometimes wonderfully fine both in sentiment and 
expression, as when he defines ' the Proud Man 
to be a Fool in fermentation ; ' and when speak- 
ing of the Antiquary, he says, ' he has a great 
veneration for words that are stricken in years 
and are grown so aged that they have outlived 
their employments : ' but the great fault in thes^ 
characters is that they are a bad and false specie!* 
of composition.* As for his editor he is always 
in the wrong when there was a possibility of his 
mistaking. I could not but smile at his detecting 
Pope's plagiarisms about the Westphalia hogs, 
when I reflected, that in a very little time, when 
the chronology is not well attended to, your fine 
note about the ambergris will be understood by 
every one as a ridicule upon it ; and, indeed, an 
excellent one it is : notwithstanding, I wish this 
fellow would give us a new edition of Hudibras, 
for the reason he mentions." 

A. Wood ascribed to Butler two pamphlets, 
supposed, he says, falsely to be William Prynn's. 
The one entitled " Mola Asinaria," or the unrea- 
sonable and insupportable Burden pressed upon 
the Shoulders of this groaning Nation. London, 
1659, in one sheet 4to. The other, Two Letters; 
one from John Audland, a quaker, to William 

* See some excellent observations on this style of writ- 
ing in Eetrosp. Eev. vol. iii. art. iv. ' Fuller's Cliurck 
^istorv.' 



LIFE OF BUTLER. XIX 

Prynn; the other, Piynn's Answer; in three 
sheets in folio, 1672. The author of his life also 
adds, that he had seen a small poem, of one sheet 
in quarto, on Duval the highwayman, said to be 
written by Butler. These formed part of the 
posthumous pieces above mentioned; to which 
may be added the fragment given to Mr Aubrey 
by the poet himself, and printed by the writer of 
his life. It is said that Butler did not shine in 
conversation till he had taken a cheerful glass, 
though he was no intemperate di'inker. The fol- 
lowing scory is told in the British Biography : — 
" Before he (Butler) was personally known to the 
Earl of Dorset, that nobleman had a great desire 
to spend an evening with him as a private gentle- 
man ; and with thp^t view prevailed on Mr. Thet- 
wood Shepherd to introduce liim into his compa- 
ny, at a tavern which they used, in the character 
only of a common friend. This being done, Mr. 
Butler, we are told, whilst the first bottle was 
drinking, appeared very flat and heavy, at tlie 
second bottle extremely brisk and lively, fuU of 
wit and learning, and a most pleasant agreeable 
companion, but before the third bottle was finished 
sunk again into such stupidity and dulness, that 
hardly any body could have believed him to be 
the author of Hudibras, ii book abounding with 
60 much wit, learning, and pleasantry. Next 
morning Mr. Shepherd asked his lordship's opinion 
of Mr. Butler, who answered, "He is like a nine- 



XX LIFE OF BUTLER. 

pin, little at both ends, but great in the middle."* 
Johnson sums up the personal history of the poet 
by saying, " In this mist of obscurity passed the 
life of Butler, a man whose name can only perish 
with his language. The date of his birth is 
doubtful, the mode and place of his education are 
unknown, the events of his life are variously 
related, and all that can be told with certainty 
is that he was poor." 

A list of the portraits of Butler, in painting 
and engraving, may be found in Granger's His- 
tory of England ; f a portrait of him by Lely is 
m the Picture Gallery at Oxford ; and another, by 
the same hand, formerly in the possession of Mr. 
Longueville, became the property of Mr. Hayter 
of Salisbury. Another likeness of him by Zoort, 
tvas formerly in the collection of the celebrated 
IMr. Charles Jennins. Several prints of him by 
Vertue are also prefixed to different editions of 
his works. 

The merit of Hudibras (it has been well ob- 
served),]: certainly lies in its style and execution, 

* A. Wood says, " Butler was a boon and witty companion, 
especially among the company he knew well." 

t See vol. iv. p. 38, &c. A mezzotint print of Lord Grey 
has been altered to Butler. 

X See Campbell's Specuuens of Br. Poets, vol. iv. p. 205 
The principal actions of the poem, says Nash, are four. 1 
Hudibras's victory over Crowdero. 2. Trulla's victory over 
Hudibras. 3. Hudibras's victory over Sidi-ophel. 4. The 
"""idow's antimaspuerade. The rest is made up of the adv .n- 



LIFE OF BUTLER. XXl 

and bj no means in the structure of the story. 
The action of the poem as it stands, and inter- 
rupted as it is, occupies but three days, and it is 
clear from the opening line, " When civil dudgeon 
first grew high," that it was meant to bear date 
with the civil wars. Yet after two days and nights 
are completed, the Poet skips at once, in the third 
part, to Oliver Cromwell's death, and then returns 
to retrieve his hero, and conduct him through the 
last canto. Before the third part of Hudibras 
appeared, a great space of time had elapsed, since 
the publication of the first. Charles the Second 
had been fifteen years asleep on the throne, and 
Butler seems to have felt that the ridicule of the 
sectaries was a stale subject. The final interest 
of the piece, therefore, dwindles into the Widow's 
repulse of Sir Hudibras, a topic which has been 
suspected to allude not so much to the Presbyte- 
rians, as to the reigning monarch's dotage upor 
his mistresses. "Burlesque," says Shenstone, 
" may perhaps be divided into such as turns chief- 
ly on the thought and such as depends more on 
the expression, or we may add a third kind, con- 
sisting in thoughts ridiculously dressed, in lan- 
guage much above or below their dignity. The 
Splendid Shilling of Phillips, and the Hudibras 
of Butler are the most obvious instances. Butler, 

tures of the Bear, of the Skimmington, Hudibras's conversa- 
■ions with the Lawyer and Sidrophel, and nis long disputatious 
Krith Ralpho and the Widow. 



XXU LIFE OF BUTLER. 

however, depended much on the ludicrous effect 
of his double rhymes ; in other respects, to declare 
your sentiments, he is rather a witty writer, than 
a humoraus one." * The defect of Butler's poem 
undoubtedly consists in what has been already 
mentioned, — the poverty of the incidents, and 
the incompleteness and uTCgularity of the design. 
The slender strain of narrative which is just visi- 
ble in the commencement,! soon dwindles away 
aud is lost. It is true that the poem abounds with 
curious and uncommon learning, with original 
thoughts, happy images, quaint and comic turns 
of expression, and new and fanciful rhymes. But 
the humour, instead of being diffused quietly and 
unostentatiously over the whole poem, in rich 
harmonious colouring, is collected into short epi- 
grammatic sentences, pointed apothegms, and un- 
expected allusions. It has the same merits and 
defects as a poem of a very different kind — 
Young's Night Thoughts, — copious invention, 
new and pleasing images, and brilliant thoughts ; 
with a want of sufficient connexion in the subject, 

* Shenstone's Works, vol. ii. p. 182, third ed. 

* " Butler set out on too narrow a plan, and even that de- 
sign is not kept up. He sinks into httle true particulars about 
the Widow, &c. The enthusiastic Knight, and the ignorant 
Squire, over reli^ous in two different ways, and always quar- 
relling together, is the chief point of view in it." — (Pope) v. 
Spence's Anecdotes, p. 208. It appears from some passages in 
Warburton's Correspondence, that Gray did not much admirf 
tills poem of Butler's. 



LIFE OF BUTLER. XXIU 

and progress in the story. There is no poem at 
all resembling Hudibras in character in our Ian- 
gunge ; but parts of it are not dissimilar to the 
style and manner of some prose writings of the time, 
which were published under the name of ' Cha- 
racters,' and which, like Butler's poem, dazz 
rather than delight by successive flashes of w 
and a rapid play of fancy. It may be observt 
that the defects and merits of this work are 'prac- 
tically made known by the manner in which it is 
read. Its want of story and incident seldom per- 
mits a contmued perusal; while the abundance of 
its wise * and witty sayings insures a constant re- 
currence to its pages. As little can be added to 
the character of the work which Johnson has 
given, and as it would be presumptuous to hope to 
express his thoughts in any language but his own, 
we shall conclude with extracting from his Life of 
Butler the following critical opinion of liis work. 

" The poem of Hudibras is one of those com- 
positions of which a nation may justly boast; as 
the images which it exhibits are domestic, the 
sentiments unborrowed and unexpected, and the 
strain of diction original and pecuHar. We must 
not, howeVer, suffer the pride, which we assume 

* "Though scarcely any author was ever able to express 
his thoughts in so few words as Butler, he often employs too 
many thoughts on one subject, and thus becomes prolix after 
411 iniusual manner." — S '.e Hume's Hist, of England, vol. viii 
D. 337 



XXIV LIFE OF BUTLER. 

as the countrymen of Butler, to make any en- 
croachment upon justice, nor appropriate those 
honours which others have a right to share. Tlie 
poem of Hudibras is not wholly Enghsh; the ori- 
ginal idea is to be found in the history of Don 
Quixote ; a book to which a mind of the greatest 
powers may be indebted without disgrace. Cer- 
vantes shows a man, who, having by the incessant 
perusal of incredible tales subjected his under- 
standing* to his imagination, and famiharized his 
mind by pertinacious meditation to trains of in- 
credible events and scenes of impossible existence, 
goes out in the pride of knighthood to redress 
wrongs and defend virgins, to rescue captive prin- 
cesses, and tumble usurpers from their thrones, 
attended by a squire, whose cunning, too low for 
the suspicion of a generous mind, enables him 
often to cheat his master. 

" The hero of Butler is a Presbyterian justice, 
who, in the conhdence of legal authority and the 
rage of zealous ignorance, ranges the country t<? 
repress superstition and correct abuses, accompa- 
nied by an Independent clerk, disputatious and 
obstinate, with whom he often debates, but never 
conquers him. 

" Cervantes had so much kindness for Don 
Quixote, that, however he embarrasses him with 
absurd distresses, he gives him so much sense and 

* Would not " rensoii " be tlie more proppi- \vf)rd? 



LIFE OF BUTLEU. XXV 



virtue, as may preserve our esteem. Wlierevei* 
he is or whatever he does, he is made by match- 
less dexterity, commonly ridiculous, but never 
contemptible. 

'' But for poor Hudibras, his poet had no ten- 
derness, he chooses not that any pity sliould be 
shewn, or respect paid him. He gives him up at 
once to laughter and contempt, without any qual- 
ity that can dignify or protect him. lu forming 
the character of Hudibras, and describing his 
person and habiliments, the author seems to hibour 
with a tumultuous confusion of dissimilar ideas. 
He had read the history of the mock kniglits-er- 
rant, he knew the notions and manners of a Pres- 
byterian magistrate, and tried to unite the absurd- 
ities of both, however distant, in one personage.* 
Thus he gives him that pedantic ostentation of 
knowledge, which has no relation to chivalry, and 

* "One great object," saj-s Nash, "of our Poet's satire, is 
to unmask the hypocrite and to exhibit in a light at once odi- 
ous and ridiculous, the Presbyterians and Independents, and 
all other sects, which in our Poet's days amounted to near 
two hundred, and were enemies to the king; but his further 
view was to banter all the false and erase all the suspicions 
pretences to learning that prevailed in his time, such as as- 
trology, sympathetic medicme, alchymy, transfusion of blood, 
trifling experimental philosophy, fortune-telling, incredible re- 
lations of travellers, false wit aiid injudicious affectation oi 
ornament to be found in the p'->cts, romance writers : thus he 
frequently alludes to Purchas's Pilgrims, Sir K. l>igby's book^ 
liulwar's ArtiHcial Changeling, Br-^wn"s Vulgrr Erruis, Bur- 
ton's Melancholy, the early Tra:,-icfi mk u^ t)>t Houd Soci- 
ety Sec."' 



XXVl LIFE OF BUTLER. 

loads him with martial encumbrances, that can add 
nothing to his civil dignity. He sends him out a 
colonelhng, and yet never brings him within siglit 
of war. If Hudibras be considered as the repre- 
sentative of the Presbyterians, it is not easy to 
say why his weapons should be represented as ri- 
diculous or useless; for whatever judgment might 
be passed on their knowledge, or their arguments, 
experience had suthciently shown that their swords 
were not to be despised. The hero, thus com- 
pounded of swagger and pedant, of knight and 
justice, is led forth to action, with his Squire Ral- 
ph©, an Lidependent enthusiast. Of the contex- 
ture of events planned by the author, which is 
called the action of the poem, since ii is left im- 
perfect, no judgment can be made. It is probable 
that the hero was to be led through many luckless 
adventures, which would give occasion, like his 
attack on the Bear and Fiddle, to expose the ri- 
diculous rigour of the sectaries ; like his encounter 
with Sidrophel and Wliachum, to make super- 
stition and credulity contemptible; or like his re- 
course to the low retailer of the law, discover the 
fraudulent practices of different professions. 

" What series of events he would have formed, 
or in what manner he would have rewarded or 
punished his hero, it is now vain to conjecture. 
His work must have had, it seems, the defect 
which Dryden imputes to Spenser, the action 
could not have been one : those could only have 







LIFE OF BUTLER. XXVU 

been a succession of incidents, each of which 
might have happened without the rest, and which 
could not all (;o-operate to any single conclusion. 
The discontinuity of the action might, however, 
have been easily forgiven, if there had been ac- 
tion enough; but I believe every reader regrets 
the paucity of events, and complauis that in the 
poem of Hudibras, as in the History of Thucydi- 
des, there is more said than done. The scenes are 
too seldom changed, and the attention is tired with 
long conversation. It is indeed much more easy 
to form dialogues than to contrive adventures. 
Every position makes way for an argument, and 
every objection dictates an answer. When two 
disputants are engaged on a complicated and exten- 
sive question, the difficulty is not to continue, but 
to end the controversy. But whether it be, that 
we comprehend but few of the possibilities of life, 
or that life itself affords little variety, every man 
who has tried, knows how much labour it will cost 
o form such a combination of circumstances as 
shall have at once the grace of novelty and credi- 
bility, and delight fancy without violence to reason. 
Perhaps the dialogue of this poem is not perfect. 
Some power of engaging attention might have been 
added to it, by quicker reciprocation, by seasonable 
interruptions, by sudden questions, and by a near- 
er approach to dramatic sprightliness ; without 
which fictitious speeches will always tire, how- 
''ver sparkling with sentences, and however varie- 



KXVlll LIFE OF BUTLER. 

gated with allusions. The great source of plea- 
sure is variety. Unilbrmity must tire at last, 
though it be an uniformity of excellence. We 
love to expect, and when expectation is disap- 
pointed, or gratihed, we want to be again expect- 
ing. For this impatience of the present, whoever 
would please must make provision. The skilful 
writer, irritate midcet, makes a due distribution 
of the still and animated parts. It is for want 
of this artful inter texture, and tliose necessary 
changes, that the whole of a book may be tedious, 
though all the parts are praised. 

" If inexhaustible wit could give perpetual plea- 
sure, no eye could ever leave half-read the work 
of Butler ; for what poet has ever brought so many 
remote images so happily together ? It is scarce- 
ly possible to peruse a page without hnding some 
association of images that was never found before. 
By the first paragraph the reader is amused, by 
the next he is delighted, and by a few more 
strained to astonishment, but astonishment is a 
toilsome pleasure. He is soon weary of wander- 
ing, and longs to be diverted. 

Omnia vult belle Matho dicere, die aliquando 
Et bene, die neutrum, die aliquando male. 

Imagination is useless without knowledge ; nature 
gives in vain the power of combination, unless 
study and observation supply materials to be com- 
bined. Butler's treasures of knowledge appear 



LIFE OF IJUTLEU. X KIX 

proportioned to his expense. Whatever topic 
employs his mind, he shows himself qualified to 
expand and illustrate it with all the accessories 
that books can furnish. He is found not only to 
have travelled the beaten road, but the bye paths 
of literature ; not only to have taken general sur- 
veys, but to have examined particulars with minute 
inspection. If the French boast the learning of 
Kabelais, we need not be afraid of confronting 
them with Butler. But the most valuable parts 
of his performance are those which retired study 
and native wit cannot supply. He that merely 
makes a book from books may be useful, but can 
scarcely be great. Butler had not suffered life 
to glide by him unseen or unobserved. He had 
watched with great diligence the operations of 
human nature, and traced the effects of opinion, 
humour, interest, and passion. From such re- 
marks proceeded that gi^eat number of seMeiitious 
distichs, which have passed into conversation, and 
are added as proverbial axioms to the general 
stock of practical knowledge. When any work 
has been viewed and admired, the first question 
of mtelligent curiosity is, how was it performed ? 
Hudibras was not a hasty effusion ; it was not 
produced by a sudden tumult of imagination, or 
a short paroxysm of violent labour. To accu- 
mulate such a mass of sentiments at the call of 
accidental desii'c, or of sudden necessity, is beyond 
tlie reach and power of the most aotive and c( a- 



SXX LIFE OF BUTLER. 

prehensive mind. I am informed by Mj-. Thyer 
of Manchester, that excellent editor of this au- 
thor's reliques, that he could show something like 
Hudibras in prose. He has m liis possession the 
common-place book in wliich Butler reposited, not 
such events and precepts as are gathered by read- 
ing, but such remarks, similitudes, allusions, as- 
semblages, or inferences, as occasion prompted, 
or meditation produced, those thoughts that were 
generated in his own mind, and might be usefully 
applied to some future purpose. Such is the la- 
bour of those who write for immortality : * but 

* Butler crowds into his confined circle all the treasures 
of art and the accumulations of learning. He gives full mea- 
sure to his readers, heaped up and ninning over. Thought 
crowds upon thought, and witticism on witticism, in rapid 
and dazzhng succession. Every topic and every incident is 
made the most of : his bye-play always tells. Many of his 
happiest ^alhes appear to escape him as if by accident. Many 
of his hardest hits appear to be merely chance-blows. A de- 
scription of a bear-ward brings in a sneer at Sir K. Digby, 
and his powder of sympathy; and an account of a tinker's 
doxy introduces a pleasantry on Sir \V. Davenant's (jondi- 
bert. There is alvvnys an under-^current of satiric allusion be- 
neath the main stream of his satire. The jugghng of astrolo- 
gy, the besetting folly of alchymy, the transfusion of blood, 
the sympathetic medicines, the learned trifling of expenmen- 
tal philosophers, the knavery of fortune-tellers, and the folly 
of their dupes, the marvellous relations of travellers, the sub- 
tleties of the school divines, the freaks of fashion, the fantas 
tic extravagancies of lovers, the aflectations of piety, and 
the absnrdities of romance, are interwoven with liis subject, 
and soften do'vn and relieve his dark delineation of fanatical 
violence and perfidy. * * Butler was by no means dcticieni 



LIFE OF BUTLER. J^X> 

human works are not easily found without a pe- 
rishable part. Of the ancient poets, every reader 
feels the mythology tedious and oppressive ; of 
Hudibras, the manners, being founded on opinions, 
are temporary and local, and therefore become 
every day less intelligible and less striking. What 
Cicero says of philosophy is true likewise of wit 
and humour, that time eftaces the fictions of opi- 
nion, and confirms the determinations of nature. 
Such manners as depend upon standing relations 
and general passions are co-extended with the 
race of man ; but those modifications of life and 
peculiarities of practice, which are the progeny 
of error and perverseness, or at best, of some 
accidental influence, or transient persuasion, must 
perish with their parents. Much, therefore, of 
that humour which transported the last century 
with merriment is lost to us, who do not know the 
sour solemnity, the sullen superstition, the gloomy 
moroseness, and the stubborn scruples of the an- 
cient Puritans ; or, if we know them, derive our 
information only from books, or from tradition; 
have never had them before our eyes, and cannot 
but by recollection and study understand the lines 
m which they are satirized. Our grandfathers 

in humour, but it is cast into a dim eclipse by the predoml- 
Dance of his wit. His characters do not show themselves off 
'inconsciously as fools or coxcombs : they are set up as marks 
at which the author levels ah the sliafts of his ridicule and 
sarcasm, v. Eetrosp. Rev. vo! iii. p. 833. 



XXXii J.IFE 01" BUTLEK. 



knew the picture from the life; .ve judge of the 
life by contemplating the picture. 

" It is scarcely possible, in the regularity and 
composure of the present tune, to image the 
tumult of absurdity and clamour of contradiction, 
which perplexed doctrine, disordered practice, and 
disturbed both pubHc and private quiet, in that 
age when subordination was broken, and awe was 
hissed away ; when any unsettled innovator, who 
could hatcli a half-formed notion, produced it to 
the public; when every man might become a 
preacher, and almost every preacher could collect 
a congregation. The wisdom of the nation is 
very reasonably supposed to reside in the parlia- 
ment ; what can be concluded of the lower classes 
'.)f the people, when, in one of the parliaments 
summoned by Cromwell, it was seriously proposed, 
:hat all the records in the Tower should be burned, 
Lhat all memory of things passed should be ef- 
aced, and that the whole system of life should 
ommence anew ! We have never been witness- 
is of animosities excited by the use of mince pie 
ind plum porridge, nor seen with what abhorrer 
nose who could eat them at aU other times of the 
^ear, should shrink from them in December. An 
lid Puritan, who was alive in my childhood, be- 
iig, at one of the feasts of the Cliiirch, invited 
ly a neighbour to partake his cheer, told him 
liat if he would treat him at an alehouse with 
>::er brewed for all times and seasons, he should 



LIFK OF BUTLER. XXXIU 



accept his kindness, but would have none of his 
Bupei-stitious meats and drinks. One of the pu- 
ritanical tenets was the illegality of all games of 
chance, and he that reads Gataker upon Lots, 
may see how much learning and reason one of tlie 
first scholars of his age thought necessary to 
prove that it was no crime to throw a die, or play 
at cards, or hide a shilling for the reckonmg. 
Astrology, however, against which so much of 
the satire is directed, was not more the folly of 
the Puritans than of others ; it had m that tune 
a very extensive dominion ; its predictions raised 
hopes and fears in minds which ought to have 
rejected it with contempt. In hazardous under- 
takings care was taken to begui under the mflu- 
ence of a propitious planet ; and when the king 
was prisoner in Carisbrook Castle, an astrologer 
was consulted what hour would be found most 
favourable to an escape. What effect this Poem 
had upon the public, whether it shamed imposture, 
or reclaimed credulity, is not easily determmed ; 
cheats can seldom stand long against laughter ; it 
is certain that the credit of planetary intelligence 
wore fast away, though some men of knowledge, 
and Dryden among them, continued to beUeve 
that conjunctions and oppositions had a great part 
in the distribution of good or evil, and in the 
government of sublunary things. 

"Poetical action ought to be probable upon 



VOL.. I. 



XXXIV LIFE OF BUTLER. 

certain suppositions ; and such probability as bur- 
lesque requires is here violated only by one inci- 
dent. Nothing can show more plainly the neces- 
sity of doing something, and the difficulty of find- 
ing sometliing to do, than that Butler was reduced 
to transfer to his hero the flagellation of Sancho, 
not the most agreeable fiction of Cervantes, very 
suitable indeed to the manners of that age and 
nation, which ascribed wonderful efficacy to vo- 
luntary penances ; but so remote from the practice 
and opinions of the Hudibrastic time, that judg- 
ment and imagination are alike offended. The 
diction of this poem is grossly familiar, and the 
numbers purposely neglected, except in a few 
places where the thoughts by their native excel- 
lence secure themselves from violation, bemg such 
as mean language cannot express. The mode of 
versification has been blamed by Dryden, who 
regrets that the heroic measure was not rather 
chosen. To the critical sentence of Dryden the 
highest reverence would be due, were not his de- 
cisions often precipitate, and his opinions imma- 
ture. Wlien he wished to change the measure 
he probably would have been willing to chang€» 
more. If he intended that when the numbers 
were heroic, the diction should still remain vulgar, 
lie planned a very heterogeneous and unnatural 
composition. If he preferred a general stateli- 
vcsri botli of sound and words, he can only be un- 



LIFE OF BUTLER. XXXV 

clerstoocl to wish Butler had undertaken a diffe- 
rent work. The measure is quick, sprightly, and 
colloquial, suitable to the vulgarity of the words, 
and the levity of the sentiments, but such numbers 
and such diction can gain regard only when they 
are used by a writer whose vigour of fancy and 
copiousness of knowledge entitle liim to contempt 
of ornaments, and who in confidence of the novel- 
ty and justness of his conceptions, can afford to 
throw metaphors and epithets away. To another 
that conveys common thoughts in careless versifi- 
cation, it will only be said, ' Pauper videri Cinna 
vult, et est pauper.' The meaning and diction 
will be worthy of each other, and criticism may 
justly doom them to perish together. Nor even 
though another Butler should arise, would another 
Hudibras obtain the same regard. Burlesque 
consists in a disproportion between the style and 
the sentiments, or between the adventitious senti- 
ments and the fundamental subject. It, therefore, 
like all bodies compounded of heterogeneous parts, 
contains m it a principle of corruption. All dis- 
proportion is unnatural, and from what is unnatu- 
-al we can derive only the pleasure which novel- 
ty produces. We admire it awhile as a strange 
tiling ; but when it is no longer strange we per- 
ceive its deformity. It is a kind of artifice 
which by frequent repetition detects itself; and 
tlie reader, learning in time what he is to ex« 



XXXVl LIFE OF JBUTLEK. 

pect, lays down his book, as the spectator turns 
away from a second exhibition of those tricks, 
of which the only use is to show they can be 
played." 



NOTES. 

Page ix. On Sir Samuel Luke being represented by 
Hudibras, see Dr. Grey's Preface, p. iv., where by a 
reverend and learned person, Warburton is meant ; see 
D'Israeli's Curiosities of Literature (new series), vol. 
i. p. 235, on this point. The Grub Street Journal 
says, one Col. Rolle, a Devonshire man. The old tu- 
telar saint of Devonshire was Hugh de Bras, see Edin- 
burgh Review, No. LXVIL 159. The author of a cu- 
rious article in the Censor, No. XVL (v. Gent. Mag.) 
called "Memoirs of Sir Samuel Luke," observes. An 
unauthenticated story prevails that Butler once lived in 
the service of Sir Samuel Luke, and has increased 
with a succession of writers, like a rolling ball of 
snow. Wood and Aubrey, who had both access to 
credible information, say nothing about it ; and it first 
occurs in an anonymous life prefixed to his poems. 
Towneley, in his Memoir, insinuates that he behaved 
with ingratitude ; ' 11 me semble qu'il doit ^pargner le 
chevalier Luke, son bienfaiteur, que la gratitude et la 
reconnaissance auraient du mettre a convert centre les 
traits de la satire de votre auteur.' But for the climax 
of this representation we are indebted to the Edinb. Re- 
view (Art. Hogg's Jacobite Relics), in which the critic 
-oundly asserts that " Butler lived in the family, sup- 
ported by the bounty of Sir Samuel Luke, one of Crom- 
well's captains, at the very ime he planned his Hudi- 



XXXVlll NOTES. 

braSj of which he was pleased to make his kind friend 
and hospitabJe patron the Hero." Now (he continues) 
we defy the history of whiggism to match this anec- 
dote, or to produce so choice a specimen of the human 
nettle ! 

P. xiii. Gratitude of the king-.] According to the 
verses in Butler's ' Hudibras at Court ' (v. Remains). 

Now you must know, Sir Hudibras 

With such perfections gifted was, 

And so peculiar in his manner. 

That all that saw him, did him honor. 

Among the rest this piince was one 

Admired his conversation. 

This prince, whose ready wit and parts 

Conquer'd both men and women's hearts: 

Was so o'ercome with KJiight and Ealph, 

That he could never clear it off. 

He never eat, nor drank, nor slept, 

But Hudibras still near him kept; 

Nor would he go to church, or so, 

But Hudibras must with him go. 

Nor 5"et to visit concubuie, 

Or at a city feast to dine ; 

But Hudibras must still be there, 

Or all the fat were in the fire. 

Now after aU, was it not hard 

That he should meet with no reward, 

Tliat fitted out this Knight and Squire, 

This monarch did so much admire ; 

That he should never reimbui'se 

The man for th' equipage and horse, 

Is sure a strange ungi-ateful thing 

In any body but a king; - 

But this good king, it seems, was told 

By some that were with him too bold, 

If e'er j^ou hope to gain your ends, 

Caress your foes, and trust your friends. 



NOTES. XXXI X 

Such were the doctrines that were tiiught 
Till this unthinking kmg was brought 
To leave his friends to stai-ve and die, 
A poor reward for loyalty. 

Oldham, in his Satire against Poetry, writes thus : 

On Butler who can think without just rage, 
The glory and the scandal of the age. 
Fair stood his hopes, when first he came to town, 
Met every where with welcomes of renown. 
Courted and loved by all, with wonder read, 
And promises of princely favour fed. 
But what reward for all had he at last. 
After a life m dull expectance past. 
The wretch, at summing up his misspent days, 
Found nothmg left but poverty and praise. 
Of all his gains by verse he could not save 
Enough to purchase flannel and a gi-ave. 
Reduced to want, he in due time fell sick. 
Was fain to die, and be inteiTed on tick. 
And well might bless the fever that was sent 
To rid liim thence, and his worse fate prevent. 

And Dryden, in the Hind and Panther: 

Unpitied Hudibras, your champion friend, 
Has shown how far your charities extend. 
This lasting verse shall on his tomb be read. 
He shamed you living, and upbraids you dead. 

P. XV. Epitaph on Butler, by John Dennis, never 
efore published, in Disraeli's Curiosities of Litera- 
.ure (new series), vol. i. p. 240. 

Near this place Ues interred 

The body of Mr. S. Butler, 

Author of Hudibras. 

He was a whole species of poets in one. 

Admirable in a manner, 

Li which no one else has been tolerable ; 

A manner which began and ended with liiin, 

In A^liich he knew no guide, 

And found no followers. 



xl NOTES. 

P. xxiii. On the versification of Hudibras, see Dry- 
den's Ded. to Juvenal, 1735, p. 100; to which John- 
Bon alludes. See also Addison's Spectator, vol. i. No. 
ix. See also Prior's Alma (c. ii. init.). 

But shall we take the muse abroad, 
To drop her idly on the road? 
And leave our subject in the middle, 
As Butler did his bear and fiddle? 
Yet he, consummate master, knew 
When to rccede and when pursue. 
His noble negligences teach 
What others' toils despair to reach. 
He, perfect dancer, climbs the rope, 
And balances your fear and hope ; 
If, after some distinguish'd leap. 
He drops his pole, and seems to slip, 
Straight gathering all his active strength. 
He rises higher half his length. 
With wonder you approve his slight. 
And owe your pleasure to your fright. 
But like poor Andrew I advance. 
False mimic of my master's dance. 
Around the cord awhile I sprawl, 
And thence, though low, in earnest falL 



APPENDIX. 

I Butler's Hudibras ; the first part printed by T. G. 
"or Richard Marriott, under St. Dunstan's Church, 
Fleet Street, 1663, 8vo. p. 268.* In the Meicurms 
\ulicus, Jan. 1-8, 1662, is an advertisement :- There 
is stolen abroad a most false and imperfect copy of Hu- 
dibras, without name, either of printer or bookseller ; 
the true and perfect edition printed by the author s ori- 
ginal is sold by Richard Marriott, near St. Dunstan's 
Church, in Fleet Street. That other nameless impres- 
sion is a cheat, and will but abuse the buyer, as well as 
the author, whose poem deserves to have fallen into 
better hands. 

II Hudibras, the second part, 1663. This spurious 
second part was published after Butler had printed 
his first part, and before he printed the second, and is 
very scarce. It ran through three editions in the same 
year; the first two do not differ except in the type. 
But there was another edition still, " Hudibras, the 
second part, with the continuation of the third canto, 
to which is added a fourth canto." 

* I have also met with ' ]\Iercurius Menippcus, the Loyal Sa- 
tirist, or Hudibras m Prose; written by an unknown hand, in 
the time of the late rebel.on, but never till now published, 
168-2.' a envious tract. 



Xlii APPENDIX 

Hudibrfs; the second part, by the author of the 
nrst ; printed by T. R. for John Martyn and James 
Allestrey, at the Bell, in St. Paul's Church-yard, 1664, 
8vo. and l2mo. It has on the title page a wood-cut, 
with the publishers' device, a bell, and the letters at the 
bottonn, M. A. In the Mercurius Publicus for Nov. 
20, 1663, is this very singular advertisennent : — " New- 
ly published, the second part of Hudibras, by the au- 
thor of the former, which (if possible) has outdone the 
first." — In the B. Museum (Misc. Pap. Bibl. Birch. 
No. 4293) is the following injunction : — Charles R. 
our will and pleasure is, and we do hereby strictly 
charge and command, that no printer, bookseller, 
stationer, or other person whatsoever, within our king- 
dom of England, or Ireland, do print, reprint, utter, or 
sell, or cause to be printed, reprinted, uttered, or sold, 
a book or poem, called Hudibras. or any part thereof, 
without the consent and approbation of Samuel Bote- 
ler, Esq. or his assigns, as they, and every of them will 
answer the contrary at their perils. Given at our 
Court at Whitehall, the 10th day of September, in the 
year of our Lord God 1677, and in the 29th year ot 
our reign, by his Majesty's command. T. Berkenhead. 

Hudibras ; the third and last part, written by the au- 
thor of the first and second parts ; printed for Simon 
Miller, at the sign of the Star, at the west end of St. 
Paul's, 1678, Svo p. 285. This part had no notes 
during the author's life, and M'ho inserted them after- 
wards is not known. 

The first and second parts were republished in 1674 
Hudibras, the first and second parts, written in the 
time of the late wars, corrected and amended with sev 
eral additions and annotations, London, 1674, part i. p 
202; part ii. pp. 223-412. 



APPENDIX. xliii 

III. See some lines from the first canto of Hudibras, 
admirably translated into Latin verse by Christopher 
Smart, published in the Student ; or, Oxford and Cam- 
bridge Miscellany, published by Thornton in 1750. — 
See Beloe's Anecdotes, vol. vi. p. 419. Some also by 
Dr. Harmer, Greek Professor at Oxford, may be seen 
in the notes to the Biographia Britannica. 

IV. Dr. Grey's edition of Hudibras was published 
first in 1744. See on it Gent. Mag., 1819, vol. xii. N. 
S. p. 416, Dr. Grey's valuable but incorrect edition. 
In Grey's edition the Meditations of Justice Adam 
Overdo in the stocks are inserted from B. Jonson's 
Bartholomew Fair. The soliloquy is ingeniously splil 
into a dialogue, and one-half given to Adam, the 
other half to Overdo. The consulship of Julius and 
Caesar was nothing to this. Dr. Grey left large addi- 
tional notes, designed for a new edition, which were in 
the hands of Mr Nichols. As regards the posthumous 
works of Butler [v. Life, p. xv.) it appears from the 
authority of Mr. Thyer that very few ^only three) of 
them are authentic. Jacob, in his Lives of the Dra- 
matic Poets, p. 21, says, " not one line of those poems 
lately published under his (Butler s) name is genuine." 
See also Gent. Mag. May, 1819, vol. xii. N. S. p. 417, 
and Thyer's Remains, vol. i. p. 145, 302, 327. One 
passage occurs in the speech of tne Earl of Pembroke 
which is curious from its strong verbal coincidence 
with a passage in Burke's will — " My will is that 1 
have no monument, for then I must have epitaphs and 
verses, but all my life long I have had too much oi 
them," V. Burke's Will, in Bisset's Life, p. 578. '• I 
desire that no monument beyond a middle-sized tablet, 
with a small and simple inscription on the church wall. 



?div APPENDIX. 

or on the flag stone, be erected ; but 1 have had in my 
life time bat too much of noise and compliment ^ 

V. John Townley, the translator of Hudibras, was 
an|^ officer of the Irish brigade, and a knight of the 
military order of St. Louis ; he was uncle to Charles 
Townley, Esq. who possessed the marbles and statues. 
See Nichol's Hogarth, p. 145, and Notice sur la vie et 
les ecrits de M. Larcher, p. 135, in Class. Journal, No. 
xix. When the critical reviewers reviewed Tytler'^ 
Essay on Translation, they would not believe in the 
existence of this book, it was so scarce. See Beloe's 
Anecdotes, i. p. 216, 220. The publication was super- 
intended by M. L'Abb6 Turberville Needham, and 
illustrated witli notes by Larcher. There is an en- 
graving of Mr. Townley by Skelton, with the follow- 
ing inscription : — 

Ad impertiendum amicis inter Gallos 

Linguae AnglicanjE nonnihil peritis 

Facetum poeraa Hudibras dictum 

Accurate, festiveque gallice couvertit 

Hie Johannes Towneley 

Caroli Towneley de Towneley 

In agro Lancastriensi amiigeri filius --^ 

Nat. A. D. 1679. Denat. A. D. 1782. 

Grato, pioque animo fieri curavit 

Johannes Towneley, nepos 1797. 

Reprinted, Paris, 1819, 12mo. 3 vols, said to be a faith- 
ful reprint with the addition of notes by Larcher, and 
a Key to Hudibras by Zottin le jeune, and some account 
of the translator. 



APPENDIX. 



xlv 



From tne Literary Cydopadia, p. 83. 

VI. In estimating the poem of Hudibras, we should 
consider that genius takes every variety of form, adapts 
itself to every change of circumstance, and out of every 
object selects, according to its purpose, what is most 
essential to the view of truth, the exhibition of beauty, 
or the chastisement of folly. There are conventional 
notions on the subject which would restrict the honours 
of genius to the few master minds which have led to 
the discovery of some great laws of nature, or displayed 
the highest forms of creative imagination. But it is 
sometimes as great proof of genius to draw pictures 
from daily and familiar life, and to work upon its ele- 
ments, as it is to soar above them; and it is still a 
question for the philosophical critic to decide, whether 
to raise a gorgeous pyramid of dreams out of the ab- 
stractions of thought, be a higher task than to master the 
fallacies of existence, and paint reality in all its strange 
and grotesque combinations. The author of Hudibras 
might alone afford scope to a controversy of this nature, 
for while he presents few, if any, of those characteristics 
which be'ong to the loftier class of minds, he so wonder- 
fully adopts whatever is to be found in the actual world, 
or learnt from books, as to make his memorable lesson 
against bigotry one of the most remarkable productions 
of human ingenuity. B.t whatever m.ay be the class 
;o which Butler belongs in the Temple of Fame, there 
can only be one opinion respecting the value of liis 
works, as a rich collection of lively sarcasms, often 
intermingled with wit, on those errors and foibles of 
human nature, which at once verge upon extravagance 
and mischief. A practical observer of the world, and 
Hn active sharer in its concerns, Butler nev jr forgets the 



Xlvi APPENDIX. 

pleasant and every day character of mankind. His 
mind was thoroughly impressed with the subject on 
whJch he wrote, and that subject embraced ihe whole 
circle of motives, which set society in action at the 
period when he lived. His wit is consequently often 
spent upon follies which are no longer conspicuous, 
and his experience made lessons which it would now 
be unprofitable to study. There is yet so much im- 
perishable wisdom in his writings — so many warn- 
ings against evil tempers and absurdities, of which 
the seeds have never to this hour been eradicated from 
human nature, that Butler may still be estimated aa 
one of the noblest writers of sententious maxims to 
be found in the English language. 

Vn. From Retrospective Revieio, vol. iii. 307. 

LIST OF THE IMITATIONS OF HUDIBRAS. 

1 Hudibras, second part London 1663 

2 Butler's Ghost; or, Hudibras, the fourth part . . 1683 

3 Hogan Moganides ; or, the Dutch Hudibras . . . 1674 

4 The Irish Hudibras ; or, Fingallian Prince, &c. . . 1689 

5 The Whig's Supplication, by S. Colvil .... 1695 

6 Pendragon ; or, tlie Carpet Knight, his Kalendar . 1698 

7 Tlie Dissenting Hypocrite; or, Occasional Con- 

formist . . . 1704 

8 Vulgus Britannicus; or, the British Hudibras, m 

fifteen cantos, &c. by the Author of the Lon- 
don Spy, second edition 1710 

9 Hudibras Redivivus, &c. by E. Ward, no date. 

10 The Republican Procession; or, the Tumultuous 

Cavalcade, second edition 1714 

11 The Hudibrastic Brewer, a satire on the former 

(No. 10) 171 ■ 

12 Four Hudibrastic Cantos, being poems on four of 

the greatest heroes 1716 



APPENDIX. Xlvii 

l8 Posthumous Works in Prose and Verse of Mr. S. 

Butler, 3 rols. 12nio. 1720, and in 1 vol. , . . 1754 

14 England's Reformation, &c., a Poem, by Thomas 

Ward 1747 

15 The Irish Hudibras, Hesperi-neso-graphia, by Wil- 

liam Moftet, 1755, a reprint of No. 4. 

16 The Poetical Works of WUliam Meston 1767 

17 The Alma of Matthew Prior. 

For a very judicious and elegant criticism on the 
merits and defects of these various poems, the reader 
is advised to consult the article in the work from which 
our list is taken. The present editor, who has care- 
fully read most of the above poems, bears his testimony 
to the truth and justice of the observations upon them. 

" Pope, in classing" the English poets for his project- 
ed discourse on the rise and progress of English Poetry, 
has considered Sir John Mennis and Thomas Baynal 
as the original of Hudibras. See Dr. Warton's Essays. 
Some of these pieces certainly partake of the wit, 
raillery, and playful versification of Butler ; and this 
collection, it is just to remember, made its appearance 
eight years before the publication of Hudibras. Dr 
Farmer has traced much of Butler in Cleveland. 
Musarum Deliciae, first printed, 1655. 



Vin. An Epitaph on James Duke of Hamilton, 

He that three kingdoms made one flame, 
Blasted their beauty, burnt the frame, 
Himself now here in ashes lies, 
A part of tnis great Sacrifice : 
Here all of Hamilton remains, 
Save what the other world contains. 



Klviii APPENDIX. 

But (Reader) it is hard to tell 
Whether that world he Heav'n, or Hell. 
A Scutch man enters Hell at 's birth, 
And 'scapes it when he goes to earth, 
Assur'd no worse a Hell can come 
Than that which he enjoyed at home. 

Now did the Royall Workman botch 
This Duke, ha\k-English and halfe-Scotch / 
A Scot an English Earldom fits, 
As Purple doth your Marmuzets ; 
Suits like Nol Cromwell with the Crown, 
Or Bradshaw in his Scarlet-gown. 
Yet might he thus disguis'd (no lesse) 
Have slipt to Heav'n in '5 English dresse, 
But that he'in hope of life became 
This mystick Proteus too as well 
Might cheat the Devill 'scape his Hell, 
Since to those pranks he pleas'd to play 
Religion ever pav'd the way ; 
Which he did to a Faction tie, 
Not to reforme but crucifie. 
'Twas he that first alarm'd the Kirke 
To this prepost'rous bloody M^orke, 
Upon the King^s to place Christ's throne, 
A step and foot-stoole to his owne ; 
Taught Zeal a hundred tumbling tricks, 
And Scriptures twin'd with Politicks; 
The Pulpit made a Jugler's Box, 
Set Law and Gospell in the Stocks, 
As did old Buchanan and Knox, 
In those dales when (at once*) the Pox 

* The Pox, Presbytery, and Jesidtisme, are of the satM 
standing 



APPENDIX. 



xlix 



And Presbyters a way did find 
Into the world to plague mankind. 
'Twas he patch'd up the new Divine, 
Part Calvin and part Catiline, 
Could too transforme (without a spell) 
Satan into a Gabriel ; 
Just like those pictures which we paint 
On this side Fiend, on that side Saint. 
Both this, and that, and everything 
He was ; for and against the King : 
Rather than he his ends would misse, 
Betray'd his master with a kisse, 
And buri'd in one common Fate 
The glory o^f our Church and Stale : 
The Crown too levellM on the ground ; 
And having rook't all parties round, 
'Faith it was time then to be gone, 
Since he had all his business done. 
Next on the fatal 1 Block expir'd, 
He to this Marble- Cell retir'd ; 
Where all of Hamilton remains 
But what Eternity contains. 

Digitus Dei, or God's Justice upon Treachery 
and Treason, exemplified in the Life and 
Death of the late James Duke of Hamil- 
ton, whereto is added an Epitaph upon him. 
4to. London, 1649. 

This poem is ascribed to Marchamont Needham. It 
U curious as being much in the style of Butler, and 
bting published fourteer years before Hudibras ap- 
peared. 

vol. I 4 



I APPENDIX. 

As it has been said, on the authority of Pope, thai 
Butler was indebted for the peculiarities of his style to 
" Musarum Delicias, or Wit's Recreation; " and as 
that work is not in the possession of any but a few 
persons who are curious in poetry, it has been thought 
advisable to afford an extract or two from it. It was 
first printed in 1655. 



** A letter to Sir John Mennis, when the Parliament 
denied the King money to pay the army, unless a priest, 
whom the King- had reprieved, might be executed. Sir 
John at the same time wanting the money for provi- 
sions for his troop, desired me by his letter to goe to 
the priest, and to persuade him to dye for the good Oi 
the army, saying, 

What is't for him to hang an houre, 

To give an army strengthe and power ? " 

THE REPLY. 

By my last letter, John, thou see'st 
What I have done to soften priest. 
Yet could not ^vith all I could say 
Persuade him hang, to get thee pay. 
Thou swad, quoth he, I plainly see 
The army wants no food by thee. 
Fast oft'ner, friend, or if you'll eate, 
Use oaten straw, or straw of wheate; 
They'll ser\'e to moderate thy jelly, 
And (which it needs) take up thy beUy. 
As one that in a taverne breakes 
A glasse, stcales by the barre and sneaks. 



ArrENDix. li 

At this rebuke, with no less haste, I 

Tnidg'd f'-om the priest and pi'ison hasty 

The truth is, be gave httle credit 

To th' armies wants, because I said it; 

And if you'll press it further, John, 

'Tis fit you send a learned man. 

For thou with ease can friends expose, 

For thy behoof, to fortune's blows. 

Suppose we being found together, 

Had pass'd for bh-ds of the same feather 

I had perchance been shrewdly shent, 

And maul'd too by the Parliament. 

Have you beheld the unlucky ape 

For roasted chestniits mixmp and gape, 

And offering at them with his pawes, 

But loath he is to scorch liis clawes. 

When viewing on the hearth asleep 

A puppy, gives him cause to weep, 

To spare his own, he takes his helpe, 

And rakes out nuts with foot of whelpe; 

Which done, as if 'twere all but play, 

Your name-sake looks another way. 

The cur awakes, and finds liis thumbs 

In paine, but knows not whence it comes ; 

He takes it first to be some cramp. 

And now he spreads, now licks his vamp. 

Both are in vain, no ease appeares ; 

What should he doeV he shakes his eares; 

And hobling on three legs, he goes 

Whining away with aking toes. 

Not in much better case perhaps, 

I might have been to serve thy chaps, 

And have bestrewed my finger's end 

For groping so m cause of friend ; 

Whilst thou wouldst munch like horse in manger, 

And reach at nuts with others' danger. 

Yet have I ventured far to serve 

Mv f-iend that savs — he's like to stai've. 



lii APPENDIX. 

" An answer to a letter from Sii John Mennis^ 
wherein he jeeres him for falling so quickly to the use 
of the Directory," 

Friend, thou dost lash me witli a story, 
A long one, too, of Directory; 
"WTien thou alone deserves the birch. 
That brought'st the bondage on the Church 
Didst thou not treat for Bristow City 
And yield it up ? — the more's the pity. 
And saw'st thou not, how right or wrong 
The Common Prayer-Book went along? 
Didst thou not scource, as if enchanted, 
For articles Sir Thomas granted; 
And barter, as an author saith, 
Th' articles o' th' Christian faith ? 
And now the Directory jostles 
Christ out o' th' church and his Apostles, 
And teares down the communion rayles, 
That men may take it on their tayles. 
Imagine, friend, Boclms the King, 
Engi'aven on Sylla's signet ring, 
Delivering open to his hands 
Jugurth, and Avith him all the lands, 
Whom Sylla tooke and sent to Rome, 
There to abide the Senate's doome. 

In the same fortune, I suppose 

John standing in 's doublet and hose; 

DeUveiing up amidst the throng 

The common prayer and Wisdom's song 

To hands of Fairfax^ to be sent 

A sacrifice to the Pariiament. 

Thou little thought'st what geare begun 

Wrapt in that treaty, Imsie John. 

There lurked the fire that turned to cindej 

Tlie Church — her ornaments to tinder. 

There bound up hi that treaty lyes 

The fate of aU our Christmas pyes. 



APPENDIX. liii 

Our holy-dayes then went to wrack, 
Our wakes Avere layd upon their back, 
Our gossips' ppoones aA^ny were lurch'd, 
Our feastes, and fees for woemen church'd 5 
All tills and more ascribe we might 
To thee at Bristow, wretched knight. 
Yet thou upbraidst and raylst in rime 
On me, for that, which was thy crime. 
So froM'ard children in the sun 
Amid their sports, some shrewd turne done, 
The faulty youth begins to prate 
And layes it on his harmlesse mate. 
Dated 
From Nymptom, where the Cyder smiles, 
And James has horse as lame as Gyles. 
The fourth of 3Iay : and dost thou heare, 
'Tis, as I take it, the eighth yeare 
Since Poi'tiigall by Duhe Braganza 
Was cut from Spaine without a handsaw. 

J. S. 

Account of Mr. Samuel Butler, from Auhrey''s Letters^ 
in the Bodleian Library, edited by Dr. Bliss. 

IX. Mr. Samuel Butler was borne at Pershore, in 
Worcestershire, as we suppose ; * his brother lives 
there : went to schoole at Worcester. His father a 
man but of slender fortune, and to breed him at schoole 
was as much education as he was able to reach to. 
When but a boy, he would make observations and 
reflections on every thing- one sayd or did, and censure 
it to be either well or ill. rie never was at the univer- 
sity for the reason alledged. He came when a young 

* He was born in Worcestershire, hard by Barton-bridge, 
^ a m.ile from Worcester, in the parish of S- John, ]\Ir. Hill 
thinkes, who went to schoole with him. 



liv APPENDIX. 

man to be a servant to the Countesse of Kent,* whom 
he served severall yeares. Here, besides his study, 
he employed his time much in painting- f and drawing, 
and also in musique. He was thinking once to have 
made painting his profession. I His love to and skill 
in painting made a great friendship between him and 
Mr. Samuel Cowper (the prince of limners of this age). 
He then studyed the common lawes of England, but 
did not practise. He married a good jointuresse, the 
relict of ... . Morgan, by which meanes he lives 
comfortably. After the restauration of his ma"'% when 
the courte at Ludlowe was againe sett up, he was then 
the king's steward at the castle there. He printed a 
witty poeme called Huchbras, the first part A° 166 . 
which tooke extremely, so that the king and Lord 
Chanc. Hyde would have him sent for, and accordingly 
he was sent for. (The L*^ Ch. Hyde hath his picture 
in his library over the chimney.) They both promised 
him great matters, but to this day he has got no em- 
ployment, only the king gave him .... lib. 

He is of a middle stature, strong sett, high coloured, 
a head of sorrell haire, a severe and sound judgement ; 

* Mr. Saunders (y^ Countesse of Kent's kinsman) sayd that 
Mr. J. Selden much esteemed him for his partes, and would 
sometimes employ him to write letters for him beyond sea 
and to translate for him. He was secretairie to the D. of 
Bucks, when he was Chancellor of Cambridge. He might 
have had preferments at first; but he would not accept 
any but very good, so at last he had none at all, and dyed in 
want. 

t He painted well, and made it (sometime) his profession 
He wayted some yeares on the Countess of Kent. She gav9 
aer gent. 20 lib. per an. a-piece. 

X From Dr. Duke. 



APPENDIX. 



Iv 



a good fellowe. He hath often sayd that way (e. g. 
Mr. Edw. Waller's) of quibling with sence will here- 
after growe as much out of fashion and be as ridicule* 
as quibling with words. 2'^- N. B. He hath been 
much troubled with the gowt, and particularly, 1679, 
he stirred not out of his chamber from October till 

Easter. 

Hef dyed of a consumption Septemb. 25 (Anno D"' 
1680, 70 circiter), and buried 27, according to his owne 
appointment in the churchyard of Covent Garden ; so. 
in the north part next the church at the east end. His 
feet touch the wall. His grave, 2 yards distant from 
the pillaster of the dore, (by his desire) 6 foot deepe. 

About 25 of his old acquaintance at his funeral : I 
myself being one. 

HUDIBRAS UNPKINTED. 

No Jesuite ever took in hand 

To plant a church in baiTcn land; 

Or ever thought it worth his while 

A Swede or Russe to reconcile. 

For where there is not store of wealth, 

Souls are not worth the chandge of health. 

Spaine and America had designes 

To sell their Ghospell for their wines, 

For had the Mexicans been poore, 

No Spaniard twice had landed on their shore. 

♦Twas Gold the Catholic Religion planted. 

Which, had they wanted Gold, they still had wanted. 

He had made very sharp reflexions upon the court in 
hi3 last part. 

* [Siv. Edit.] 

t [Evidently written some time after the former oart- E-l 



Ivi APPENDIX. 

W ritl my Lord (John *) Rosse's Answer to the Mat 
quesse of Dorchester. 

Memorandum, Satyricall witts disoblige whom 
they converse with, &c. consequently make to them- 
selves many enemies and few friends, and this was hi? 
manner and case. He was of a leonine-coloured haire. 
Banguine, cholerique, middle sized, strong. 

* [In the hand-writing of Anthony ik Wood. Edit.| 



HUDIBIIA8. 



HLDIBRAS. 

PART I. CANTO I. 

THE ARGUMENT. 

Sir Hudibras his passing worth, 
The manner how he sally' d forth, 
His arms and equipage are shown, 
His horse's virtues and his own: 
Th' adventure of the Bear and Fiddle 
Is sung, but breaks off in the middle.* 

When civil dudgeon first grew high, 

And men fell out they knew not why ; 

When hard words, jealousies, and fears, 

Set folks together by the ears, 

And made them fight, hke mad or drunk, s 

* A ridicule on Ronsarde and Davenant. 

Ver. 1. Var. 'Civil fury.' — To take in 'dudgeon* is in- 
wardly to resent some injury or affront, and what is previous 
to actual fury. 

V. 2. It may be justly said, * They knew not why; ' since, 
as Lord Clarendon observes, " The like peace and plenty, and 
universal tranquillity, was never enjoyed by any nation for ten 
years together, before those unhappy troubles began." 

V. 3. By ' hard words ' he probably means the cant words 
used by the Presbyterians and sectaries of those times ; such as 
Gospel-walking, Gospel-preaching, Soul-saving, Elect, Saints 
the GoiUy, the Predestinate, and the like; which they appUed 
to their own preachers and themselves. 



4 HUDIBllAS. 

For Dame Religion as for punk; 

Whose honesty they all durst swear for, 

Though not a man of them knew wherefore; 

When Gospel-trumpeter, surrounded 

With long-ear'd rout, to battle sounded ; ic 

And pulpit, drum ecclesiastic. 

Was beat with fist instead of a stick ; 

Then did Sir Knight abandon dwelling, 

And out he rode a-colonelHng. 

A wight he was, whose very sight would n 

Entitle him Mirror of Knighthood, 

That never bow'd his stubborn knee 

To any thing but chivalry. 

Nor put up blow, but that which laid 

Right Worshipful on shoulder blade ; 30 

Chief of domestic knights and errant, 

V. 11, 12. Alluding to their vehement action in the pnlpit, 
and their beating it with their fists, as if they were beating a 
drum. 

V. 13. Our author, to make his Knight appear more ridicu- 
lous, has dressed him in all kinds of fantastic colours, and put 
many characters together to finish him a perfect coxcomb. 

V. 14. The Knight (if Sir Samuel Luke was Mr. Butler's 
hero) was not only a Colonel m the Parliament army, but 
also Scoutmaster-general in the counties of Bedford, Surrey, 
&c. This gives us some light into his character and conduct; 
for he is now entering upon liis proper office, full of pretend- 
edly pious and sanctified resolutions for the good of his coun 
try. His peregrinations are so consistent with his office and 
humour, that they are no longer to be called fabulous or 
improbable. 

V. 17, 18. i. e. He kneeled to the king, when he knighted 
him, but seldom upon any other occasion. 



FART 1. CANTO I. 

Either for chartel or for warrant ; 

Great on the bench, great in the saddle, 

That could as weU bind o'er as swaddle ; 

Mighty he was at both of these 91 

And styl'd of War, as well as Peace : 

(So some rats, of amphibious nature, 

Are either for the land or water). 

But here our Authors make a doubt 

Whether he were more wise or stout : so 

Some hold the one, and some the other, 

But, howsoe'er they make a pother, 

The diff'rence was so small, his brain 

Outweigh'd his rage but half a grain ; 

Which made some take him for a tool sb 

That knaves do work with, call'd a Fool. 

For 't has been held by many, that 

As Montaigne, playing with his cat. 

Complains she thought him but an ass, 

Much more she would Sir Hudibras : 40 

(For that's the name our valiant Knight 

To all his challenges did write). 

But they're mistaken very much ; 

'Tis plain enough he was not such. 

We grant, although he had much wit, 41 

H' was very shy of using it. 

As being loth to wear it out, 

V. 22. * Chavtel ' is a challenge to a duel. 

V. 23. In this character of Hudibras all the abuses of hu 
tnan learning are finely satirised : philosophy, logic, rhetoric 
mathematics, metaphysics, and school-divinity. 



6 HUDIBRAS. 

And therefore bore it not about ; 

Unless on holydays or so, 

As men theii- best apparel do. sc 

Beside, 'tis known he could speak Greek 

4s naturally as pigs squeak ; 

That Latin was no more difficile. 

Than to a blackbird 'tis to whistle : 

Being rich in both, he never scanted u 

His bounty unto such as wanted ; 

But much of either would afford 

To many that had not one word. 

For Hebrew roots, although they're found 

To flourish most in barren ground, eo 

He had such plenty as suffic'd 

To make some tliink him circumcis'd ; 

And truly so he was, perhaps, 

Not as a proselyte, but for claps. 

He was in logic a great critic, es 

Profoundly skill'd in analytic ; 
He could distinguish, and divide 
A hair 'twixt south and south-west side ; 
On either which he would dispute. 
Confute, change hands, and still confute : 7C 

He'd undertake to prove, by force 
Of argument, a man's no horse ; 

V. 55, 56. This is the property of a pedantic coxcomb, who 

prates most learnedly amongst illiterate persons, and make* 
a mighty pother about books and languages, where he is surfl 
to be admired, though not understood. 
V. 63, 64. Var. ' And truly so perhaps he was, 

'Tis many a pious Christian's case.' 



PART 1. CANTO I- 4 

He'd prove a buzzard is no fowl, 

And that a lord may be an owl ; 

A calf an alderman, a goose a justice, 7» 

And rooks Committee-men and Trustees. 

He'd run in debt by disputation, 

And pay with ratiocination : 

All this by syllogism, true 

Li mood and figure he would do. 80 

For rhetoric, he could not ope 

His mouth, but out there flew a trope ; 

And when he happen'd to break off 

r th' middle of his speech, or cough, 

H' had hard words ready to show why, S5 

And tell what rules he did it by ; 

Else, when with greatest art he spoke. 

You'd think he talk'd like other folk ; 

For all a rhetorician's rules 

V. 75. Such was Alderman Pennington, who sent a person 
to Newgate for singing (what he called) 'a malignant psalm.' 

Lord Clai-endon observes, "That after the declaration of 
No more addresses to the King, they who were not above the 
condition of ordinary constables six or seven years before, 
were now the justices of the peace." Dr. Bi-uno Ryves in- 
forms us, " That the town of Chelmsford in Essex was go- 
verned, at the beginning of the Rebellion, by a tinker, two 
cobblers, two taiiors, and two pedlers." 

V. 76. In the several counties, especially the Associated 
ones (Middlesex, Kent, Surrey, Sussex, Norfolk, Suffolk, and 
Cambridgeshire) which sided with the Parliament, committees 
were erected of such men as wei'e for the Good Cause, as 
they called it, who had authority, from the members of the 
two Houses at Westminster, to :'.ne and imprison whom they 
pleased. 



8 HUDIBRAS. 

Teach nothing but to name his tools. 90 

But, when he pleas'd to show 't, his speech, 

Li loftiness of sound, was rich ; 

A Babylonish dialect, 

Which learned pedants much affect ; 

It was a party-colour'd dress 95 

Of j^atch'd and p jebald languages ; 

Twas English cut on Greek and Latin, 

Like fustian heretofore on satin ; 

It had an odd promiscuous tone, 

As if h' had talk'd three parts in one ; 100 

Which made some think, when he did gabble^ 

Th' had heard three labourers of Babel, 

Or Cerberus himself pronounce 

A leash of languages at once. 

This he as volubly would vent, 109 

As if his stock would ne'er be spent: 

And truly, to support that charge. 

He had supplies as vast and large ; 

For he could coin or counterfeit 

New words with little or no wit ; no 

Words so debas'd and hard, no stone 

Was hard enough to touch them on ; 

And when with hasty noise he spoke 'em, 

The ignorant for current took *em ; 

V. 109. The Presbyterians coined a great number, such as 
Out-goings, Carryings-on, Nothingness, Workings-out, Gos 
pel-walking-times, &c. which Ave sliall meet with hereafter 
hi the speeches of the Knighf and Squire, and others, in this 
Poem; for which they are bantered by Sir John Bi'-'-enhead. 



PART I. CAJSTG I. » 

That had the orator, who once lis 

Did fill his mouth with pebble stones 

When he harangu'd, but known his phrase. 

He would have us'd no other ways. 

In mathematics he was greater 

Than Tycho Brahe or Erra Pater ; 120 

For he, by geometric scale, 

Could take the size of pots of ale ; 

Resolve by sines and tangents straight 

If bread or butter wanted weight ; 

And wisely tell what hour o' th' day 125 

The clock does strike, by Algebra. 

Beside, he was a shrewd philosopher, 

Ajid had read ev'ry text and gloss over ; 

Wliate'er the crabbed'st author hath, 

He understood b' implicit faith : lso 

Whatever sceptic could enquire for, 

For ev'ry why he had a wherefore ; 

Knew more than forty of them do, 

As far as words and terms could go ; 

All wliich he understood by rote, i9fi 

And, as occasion serv'd, would quote ; 

No matter whether right or wrong ; 

They might be either said or sung. 

His notions fitted things so well, 

V. 115. Demosthenes is here meant, who had a defect in 
I is speech. 

V. 120. An eminent Danish mathematician; and William 
Lillj, the famous astrologer of tl:ose times. 

V. 131. Var. * Inqnere.' 
VOL. 1. 5 



10 HUDIBRAS. 

That which was which he could not tell, 14« 

But oftentimes mistook the one 

For th' other, as great clerks have done ; 

He could reduce all things to acts, 

And knew their natures by abstracts ; 

"Where Entity and Quiddity, 146 

The ghosts of defunct bodies, fly ; 

Where truth in person does appear. 

Like words congeal'd in northern air. 

He knew what's what, and that's as high 

As metaphysic wit can fly : IM 

In school-divinity as able 

As he that hight Irrefragable ; 

A second Thomas, or, at once 

To name them all, another Dunce : 

V. 145. Var. ' He'd tell where Entity and Quiddity.' 

V. 152. Alexander Hales was born in Gloucestershire, and 
flourished about the year 1236, at the time when what was 
called School-divinity was much in vogue; in which science 
he was so deeply read, that he was called ' Doctor Irrefraga- 
bilis ; ' that is, the ' Invincible Doctor,' whose arguments could 
not be resisted. 

V. 153. Thomas Aquinas, a Dominican friar, was bom in 
1224, studied at Cologne and at Paris. He new-modelled the 
Bchool-divinity, and was therefore called the ' Angelic Doctor,' 
and ' I^agle ' of divines. The most illustrious persons of his 
time wei*e ambitious of his friendship, and put a high value 
on his merits, so that they offered him bishoprics, which he 
refused with as much ardour as others seek after them. He 
died in the fiftieth year of liis age, and was canonized by Pope 
John XXn. We have his works in eighteen volumes, severa. 
times printed. 

V. 154. Johannes Duuscotus was a veiy learned man 



PART I. CANTO I. H 

Profound in all the Nominal iss 

And Real ways beyond them all: 

For he a rope of sand could twist 

As tough as learned Soroonist, 

And weave fine cobwebs, fit for skull 

That's empty when the moon is full; i60 

Such as take lodgings in a head 

That's to be let unfurnished. 

who lived about the end of the thkteenth and beginning of 
the fourteenth century. The English and Scots strive which 
of them shall have the honour of his birth. The Enghsh say 
he was bom in Northumberland ; the Scots allege he was bom 
at Dunse m the Merse, the neighbouring county to Northum- 
berland, and hence was called ' Dunscotus:' Moreri, Bucha- 
nan, and other Scotch historians, are of this opmion, and for 
proof cite his epitaph : 

Scotia me genuit, Anglia suscepit, 
Gallia edocuit, Germania tenet. 

He died at Cologne, Nov. 8, 1308. In the * Supplement' to 
Dr. Cave's ' Historia Literaria,' he is said to be extraordinary 
learned in physics, metaphysics, mathematics, and astronomy; 
that his fame was so great when at Oxford, that 30,000 scho- 
lars came thither to hear his lectures : that when at Paris, his 
arguments and authority carried it for the immaculate con- 
ception of the Blessed Virgin, so that they appointed a festi- 
val on that account, and would admit no scholars to degrees 
but such as were of this mind. He was a great opposer of 
Thomas Aquinas's doctrine; and for being a very acute logi- 
cian, was called ' Doctor Subtilis,' which was the reason also 
that an old punster always called him the ' Lathy Doctor.' 

V. 155, 156. Guhehnus Occham was father of the Nomi« 
nals, and Johannes Dunscotus of the Reals. 

V. 157, 158. Var. ' And with as deUcate a hand 

Could twist as tough a rope of sand.' 



12 HUDIBRAS. 

He could raise scjriiples dark and nice, 
And after solve 'em in a trice ; 
As if Divinity had catch'd 16ft 

The itch, on purpose to be scratch'd ; 
Or, like a mountebank, did wound 
And stab herself with doubts profound, 
Only to show with how small pain 
The sores of Faith are cur'd again; no 

Altho' by woful proof we find 
They always leave a scar behind. 
He knew the seat of Paradise, 
Could tell in what degree it lies, 
And, as he was dispos'd, could prove it its 

Below the moon, or else above it ; 
What Adam dreamt of, when his bride 
Came from her closet in his side; 
Whether the Devil tempted her 
By a high Dutch interpreter ; iso 

If either of them had a navel ; 
Wlio first made music malleable ; 
Whether the Serpent, at the Fall, 
Had cloven feet, or none at all : 
All this, without a gloss or comment, iss 

He could unriddle in a moment, 
In proper terms, such as men smatter 
When they throw out and miss, the matter. 
For his religion, it was fit 

V. 18]. Several of the Ancients have supposed that Adaoi 
and Eve had no navels; and, among the Moderns, the lat* 
tearj^ed Bishop Cumberland was of this opinion. 



PART I. CANTO I. 13 

To match his learning and his wit : ioo 

'Twas Presbyterian true blue ; 

For he was of that stubborn crew 

Of errant saints, whom all men grant 

To be the true Church Militant ; 

Such as do build their faith upon im 

The holy text of pike and gun ; 

Decide all controversies by 

Infallible artillery ; 

And prove their doctrine orthodox, 

By Apostolic blows and knocks ; soo 

Call fire and sword, and desolation, 

A godly, thorough Reformation, 

Which always must be carry'd on, 

And still be doing, never done ; 

As if Religion were intended aus 

For nothing else but to be mended : 



V. 193, 194. Where Presbytery has been established, it has 
been usually effected by force of arms, like the religion of 
Mahomet: thus it was established at Geneva in Switzerland, 
Holland, Scotland, &c. In France, for some time, by that 
means, it obtained a toleration ; much blood was shed to get 
it established in England : and once, during that Grand Rebel- 
lion, it seemed very near gairung an establishment here. 

V. 195, 196. Upon these Cornet Joyce built his faith, when 
he earned away the King, by force, from Holdenby : for, when 
his Majesty asked him for a sight of his Instructions, Joyce 
*aid, he should see them presently; and so drawing up his 
troop in the inward coui*t, " These, Sir (said the Cornet), are 
my Instructions." 

V. 199, 200. Many instances of that kind are given by Dr.- 
<V^alker, in his ' SuSerings of the Episcopal Clergy.' 



14 HUDIBRAS. 

A sect whose chief devotion Kes 

In odd perverse antipathies ; 

In falling out with that or this, 

And finding somewhat still amiss ; sis 

More peevish, cross, and splenetic, 

Than dog distract, or monkey sick : 

That with more care keep holyday 

The wrong, than others the right way ; 

Compound for sins they are inclin'd to, aifi 

By damning those they have no mind to: 

Still so perverse and opposite. 

As if they worshipp'd God for spite : 

The self-same thing they will abhor 

One way, and long another for : sso 

Freewill they one way disavow, 

Another, nothing else allow : 

All piety consists therein 

In them, in other men all sin : 

Rather than fail, they will defy 235 

That which they love most tenderly; 

Quarrel with minc'd-pies, and disparage 

Their best and dearest friend, plum-porridge ; 

Fat pig and goose itself oppose, 

4Lnd blaspheme custard through the nose. 230 

V. 207. The religion of the Presbyterians of those times 
consisted principally in an opposition to the Church of Eng 
land, and quarrellmg with the most innocent customs then in 
use, as the eating Christmas-pies and pluni-ponidge at Christ- 
mas; which they reputed sinful. 

V. 213, 214. The}'^ were so remarkably obsthiate in thi» 
respect, that they kept a fast upon Christmas-day. 



PART I. CANTO I. 15 

Th' apostles of this fierce religion, 

Like Mahomet's, were ass and widgeon, 

To whom our Knight, by fast mstinct 

Of wit and temper, was so linkt, 

As if hypocrisy and nonsense 38s 

Had got th' advowson of his conscience. 

Thus was he gifted and accoutred, 
We mean on th' inside, not the outward: 
That next of all we shall discuss ; 
Then listen, Sirs, it follows thus. 340 

His tawny beard was th' equal grace 
Both of his wisdom and his face ; 
In cut and die so like a tile, 
A sudden view it would beguile ; 
The upper part whereof was whey, S45 

The nether orange, mix'd with grey. 

V. 235, 236. Dr. Bnino Ryves gives a remarkable instance 
of a fanatical conscience in a captain, who was invited by a 
soldier to eat part of a goose with him ; but refused, because, 
he said, it was stolen : but being to march away, he who would 
eat no stolen goose made no scruple to ride away upon a stolen 
mare ; for, plundering Mrs. Bartlet of her mare, this hj^ocriti- 
>tal captain gave sufficient testimony to the world that the old 
Pharisee and new Puritan have consciences of the self-same 
temper, '* To strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel." 

V. 241. Mr. Butler, in his description of Hudibras's beard, 
seems to have had an eye to Jaques's description of the Coim- 
try Justice, in ' As you like it.' It may be asked. Why the 
Poet is so particular upon the Knight's beard, and gives it the 
preference to all his other accoutrements ? The answer seems 
to be plain: the Knight had made a vow not to cut it till tlie 
Parliament had subdued the King; hence it became necessary 
to have it full}' describe'. 



16 HUDIBKAS. 

This hairy meteor did denounce 

The fall of sceptres and of crowns ; 

With grisly type did represent 

Declining age of government, 250 

And tell, with hieroglyphic spade, 

Its own grave and the State's were made : 

Like Samson's heart-breakers, it grew 

In time to make a nation rue ; 

Though it contributed its own fall, ttt 

To wait upon the public downfall : 

It was- monastic, and did grow 

In holy orders by strict vow. 

Of rule as sullen and severe. 

As that of rigid Cordeliere : 260 

'Twas bound to suffer persecution, 

And martyrdom, with resolution ; 

T' oppose itself against the hate 

And vengeance of th' incensed state. 

In whose defiance it was worn, 215 

Still ready to be pull'd and torn. 

With red-hot irons to be tortured, 

Revil'd, and spit upon, and martyr'd ; 

Maugre all which 'twas to stand fast 

As long as Monarchy should last ; 270 

But when the state should hap to reel, 

T?was to submit to fatal steel, 

And fall, as it was consecrate, 

A sacrifice to fall of state, 

V. 257. Var. ' It was canonic' 



T 1. CANTO 17 

Wliose thread of life the Fatal Sisters 27s 

Did twist together with its whiskers, 

And twine so close that Time should never, 

In life or death, their fortunes sever, 

But with his rusty sickle mow 

Both down together at a blow. SM 

So learned Taliacotius, from 
The brawny part of porter's bum, 
Cut supplemental noses, which 
Would last as Jong as parent breech, 
But w^hen tlie date of Nock was out 186 

Oif dropt the sympathetic snout. 
His back, or rather burthen, show'd 
As if it stoop'd with its own load : 
For as ^neas bore his sire 

Upon his shoulders through the fire, ssp 

Our Knight did bear no less a pack 
Of his own buttocks on his back ; 
Which now had almost got the upper- 
Hand of his head for want of crupper. 
To poise this equally, he bore 295 

A paunch of the same bulk before, 

V. 281. Gasper Taliacotius was born at Bologna, A. D. 
1553, and was Professor of physic and surgeiy there. He died 
1699. His statue stands in the Anatomy theatre, holding a 
nose in its hand. — He wrote a treatise in Latin called ' Chirur 
gia Nota,' in which he teaches tlie art o'^ ingi'afting noses, ears, 
lips, &c. with the proper instniments and bandages. This 
book has passed tiirough two editions. See ' Gi-aife do Rhi- 
lioplastice, sive arte ciirtum Nusuni ad Vivuui restituendi 
Commentatio,' 4to. Berolin, 1818. 



18 HUDIBRAS. 

VVliicli still he had a special care 

To keep well-era mm'd with thi-ifty fare, 

As white-pot, butter-milk, and curds, 

Such as a country-house affords ; aoo 

With other victual, which anon 

We further shall dilate upon. 

When of his hose we come to treat, 

The cupboard where he kept his meat. 

His doublet was of sturdy buff, soe 

And though not sword, yet cudgel-proof, 
Whereby 'twas titter for his use 
Wlio fear'd no blows but such as bruise. 

His breeches were of rugged woollen. 
And had been at the siege of Bullen ; sio 

To Old King Harry so well known, 
Some writers held they were his own : 
Through they were lin'd with many a piece 
Of ammunition bread and cheese, 
And fat black-puddings, proper food sis 

For warriors that delight in blood. 
For, as we said, he always chose 
To carry vittle in his hose. 
That often tempted rats and mice 
The ammunition to surprise ; 330 

AJid when he put a hand but in 
The one or t'other magazine. 
They stoutly in defence on't stood. 
And from the wounded foe drew blood ; 
And, till th' were storm'd and beaten out, 321 

Ne'er left the fortify'd redoubt. 



PART 1. CANTO I. V9 

4nd thougli knights-errant, as some think, 

Of old did neither eat nor drink, 

Because when thorough deserts vast 

And regions desolate they past, 33ij 

Wliere bellj-timber above ground 

Or under was not to be found, 

Unless they graz'd there's not one word 

Of their provision on record ; 

Wliich made some confidently write, 335 

They had no stomachs but to fight : 

'Tis false ; for Arthur wore in hall 

Round table like a farthingal, 

On which, with shirt pulled out behind, 

And eke before, his good knights din'd : f^ij 

Though 'twas no table some suppose. 

But a huge pair of round trunk-hose, 

In which he carry'd as much meat 

As he and all the knights could eat, 

Wlien, laying by tlieir swords and truncheons, 345 

They took their breakfasts or their nuncheons. 

But let that pass at present, Jest 

We should foro;et where we dio;rest. 

As learned authors use, to whom 

We leave it, and to th' purpose come. 350 

His puissant sword unto his side. 
Near his undaunted heart, was tied. 
With basket-hilt that would hold broth, 
And serve for fight and dinner both; 
In it he melted lead for bullets .9.55 

To shoot at f )es, and sometimes pullets, 



20 HUDIBRAS. 

To wliom he bore so fell a grutch, 

He ne'er gave quarter t any such. 

The trenchant blade Toledo trusty 

For want of fighting was grown rusty, tto 

And ate into itself for lack 

Of somebody to hew and hack : 

The peaceful scabbard, where it dwelt, 

The rancour of its edge had felt ; 

For of the lower end two handful 86fi 

It had devoured, 'twas so manful, 

And so much scorn'd to lurk in case, 

As if it durst not show its face. 

In many desperate attempts 

Of warrants, exigents, contempts, S70 

It had appear'd with courage bolder 

Than Serjeant Bum invading shoulder : 

Oft had it ta'en possession, 

And pris'ners too, or made them run. 

This sword a dagger had, his page, 87« 

That was but little for his age, 
And therefore waited on him so 
As dwarfs upon knights-errant do. 
It was a serviceable dudgeon, 
Fiither for fighting or for drudging: ssi 

When it had stabb'd, or broke a head, 
It would scrape trenchers, or chip bread ; 
Toast cheese or bacon ; though it were 
To bate a mouse-trap, 'twould not care : 
'Twould make clean shoes, and in the earth ssa 
Set leeks and onions, and so forth : 



PART I. CANTO I. 



«1 



It had been 'prentice to a brewer, 

Where this and more it did endure, 

But left the trade as many more 

Have lately done on the same score. tn 

111 th' holsters at his saddle-bow 
Two aged pistols he did stow. 
Among the surplus of such meat 
As in his hose he could not get : 
These would inveigle rats with th' scent^ 3M 

To forage when the cocks were bent, 
And sometimes catch 'em with a snap, 
As cleverly as th' ablest trap. 
They were upon liard duty still, 
And every night stood sentinel, 400 

To guard the magazine i' th' hose 
From two-legg'd and from four-legg'd foes. 

Thus clad and fortify'd Sir Knight 
From peaceful home set forth to fight. 
But first with nimble active force 40ft 

He got on th' outside of his horse : 
For having but one stirrup t/d 
T' his saddle on the further side. 
It was so short h' had much ado 
To reach it with his desp'rate toe ; 4io 

But after many strains and heaves, 
He got up to the saddle-eaves. 
From whence he vaulted into th' seat 
With so much vigour, strength, and heat, 
That he had almost tumbled over 4i» 

With his own weight, but did recover 



22 nUDIDRAS. 

By laying hold on tail and mane, 
Which oft he us'd instead of rein. 

But now we talk of mounting steed, 
Before we further do proceed, 430 

It doth behove us to say something 
Of that which bore our vaHant Bumkin. 
The beast was sturdy, large, and tall, 
AYith mouth of meal and eyes of wall, 
I would say eye, for h' had but one, m 

As most agree, though some say none. 
He was well stay'd, and in his gate 
Preserv'd a grave, majestic state ; 
At spur or switch no more he skipt 
Or mended pace than Spaniard whipt, 4M 

And yet so fiery, he would bound 
As if he griev'd to touch the ground ; 
That Cajsar's horse, who, as fame goes. 
Had corns upon his feet and toes, 
Was not by half so tender hooft, 435 

Nor trod upon the ground so soft : 
And as that beast would kneel and stoop 
(Some write) to take his rider up ; 
So Hudibras his ('tis well known) 
Would often do to set him down. 440 

We shall not need to say what lack 
Of leather was upon his back. 
For that was hidden under pad. 
And breech of Knight gall'd full as bad. 
His strutting ribs on both sides show'd 444 

Like furrows lie himself had plough'd ; 



I'ART 1. CAJsrO I. 



23 



For underneath the skirt of pannel, 

'Twixt ev'ry two there was a channel. 

His draggUng tail hung in the dirt, 

Wliich OR his rider he would flirt, 450 

Still as his tender side he prickt, 

With arm'd heel, or with unarm'd, kickt : 

For Hudibras wore but one spur, 

As wisely knowing could he stir 

To active trot one side of 's horse, 465 

The other would not hang an arse. 

A Squire he had whose name was Ralph, 
That in th' adventure went his half, 
Though writers, for more stately tone, 
Do call him Ralpho, 'tis all one ; ' 46o 

And when we can, with metre safe, 
We'll call him so ; if not, plain Ralph ; 
(For rhyme the rudder is of verses, 
With which, like ships, they steer their courses) : 
An equal stock of wit and valour 46s 

He had laid in, by birth a tailor. 
Tlie mighty Tyrian queen, that gain'd 
With subtle shreds a tract of land, 
Did leave it with a castle fair 
To his great ancestor, her heir ; 470 

V. 457. Sir Roger L' Estrange (' Key to Hudibi-as ' ) says, this 
famous Squii-e was one Isaac Robinson, a zealous butcher m 
Moorfields, who was always contriving some new querpo cut 
in church government: but, in a ' Key' at the end of a bur- 
lesque poem of Mr. Butler's, 1706, in foUo, p. 12, it is observed, 
" That Hudibras's Squire was one F3mble, a tailor and one of 
the Committee of Si-Questrators." 



24 HLDJBRAS. 

From him descended cross-legg'd kniglits, 

Fam'd foi their faith and warlike fights 

Against the bloody Cannibal, 

Whom they destroy'd both great and small. 

This sturdy Squire he had, as well 4 -i 

As the bold Trojan knight, seen hell. 

Not with a counterfeited pass 

Of golden bough, but true gold-lace : 

His knowledge was not far behind 

The Knight's, but of another kind, 48r. 

And he another way came by 't. 

Some call it Gifts, and some New-light; 

A lib'ral art, that costs no pains 

Of study, industry, or brains. 

His wit was sent him for a token, 4S5 

But in the carriage crack'd and broken ; 

Like commendation nine-pence crookt 

With — To and from my love — it lookt. 

He ne'er consider'd it, as loth 

To look a gift-horse in the mouth, 49c 

And very wisely would lay forth 

No more upon it than 'twas worth ; 

But as he got it freely, so 

V. 485. Var. ' His wits were sent him.' 

V. 487, 488. Until the year 1696, when all money, not 
milled, was called in, a ninepenny piece of silver was as com- 
mon as sixpences or shillings, and tliese ninepences were usu 
ally bent as sixpences commonly are noAv, which bending v/as 
called, To my love and from my love; and such ninepences 
the orcUnary fellows gave or sent to their sweethearts as to 
kens of love. 



TAUT I. CANTO I. 25 

He spent it frank and freely too : 

For saints themselves will sometimes be, 495 

Of gifts that cost them nothing, free. 

By means of this, with hem and cough, • 

Prolongers to enlighten'd stuff, 

He could deep mysteries unriddle, 

As easily as thread a needle : soo 

For as of vagabonds we say, 

That they are ne'er beside their way, 

Whate'er men speak by this new light, 

Still they are sure to be i' th' right. 

'Tis a dark lantern of the Spirit, m 

Which none see by but those that bear it ; 

A hght that falls down from on high. 

For spiritual trades to cozen by ; 

An ignis fatuus, that bewitches. 

And leads men into pools and ditches, 610 

To make them dip themselves, and sound 

For Christendom in dirty pond ; 

To dive like wild-fowl for salvation. 

And fish to catch regeneration. 

This light inspires and plays upon 5i» 

The nose of saint, like bagpipe drone. 

And speaks through hollow empty soul, 

4s through a trunk or whisp'ring hole, 

Such language as no mortal ear 

But spirit'al eaves-droppers can hear : ft90 



V. 511. AUr ling to Ralpho's religion, who was probably an 
Anabaptist or Dipper. 

VOL. I. 6 



26 HLDIliSiAS. 

So Phcebus, or some friendly Muse, 
Into small poets song infuse, 
Which they at second-hand rehearse, 
Through reed or bagpipe, verse for verse. 

Thus Ralph became infaUible 525 

As three or four-legg'd oracle, 
The ancient cuj), or modern chair. 
Spoke truth point blank, though unaware. 

For mystic learning, wondrous able 
In magic, talisman, and cabal, 630 

Whose primitive tradition reaches 
As far as Adam's first green breeches ; 
Deep-sighted in intelligences, 
Ideas, atoms, influences ; 

And much of Terra Incognita^ 535 

Th' intelligible world, could say; 
A deep occult philosopher. 
As learn'd as the Wild Irish are, 
Or Sir Agrippa, for profound 
And solid lying much renown'd : S40 

He Anthi'oposophus, and Floud, 
And Jacob Behmen, understood ; 
Knew many an amulet and charm. 
That would do neither good nor harm ; 
In Rosy crucian lore as learned mi 

As lie that Vere adeptus earned : 
He understood the speech of birds 
A.S well as they themselves do words ; 

V. 546. Alluding to the Diilosopliers' stone. 



TAUT I. CANTO I. 27 

Could tell what subtlest parrots mean, 

That speak and tliink contrary clean ; 56o 

What member 'tis of whom they talk 

When they cry Rope, and Walk, Knave, walk. 

He'd extract numbers out of matter. 

And keep them in a glass, like water, 

Of sov'reign pow'r to make men wise ; 55a 

For, dropt in blear thick-sighted eyes. 

They'd maKe them see in darkest night, 

Like owls, though purblind in the light. 

By help of these (as he profest) 

He had First Matter seen undrest : sm 

He took her naked, all alone. 

Before one rag of form was on. 

The Chaos, too, he had descry'd. 

And seen quite through, or else he ly'd : 

Not that of Pasteboard, which men shew d«5 

For groats at fair of Barthol'mew ; 

But its great grandsire, first o' th' name. 

Whence that and Reformation came. 

Both cousin-germans, and right able 

T' inveigle and draw in the rabble : »70 

But reformation was, some say, 

0' th' younger house to Puppet-play» 

He could foretell whats'ever was 

By consequence to come to pa^s ; 

V. 573. The rebellious clergy would in their prayers pre- 
I3nd to foretell things, to encourage people in their rebellion. 

meet with the folluwuig uistance in the prayers of IMr. George 
Swathe, minister of Denham, m Suffolk: " my good Lord 



28 HCDIBllAS. 

As death of great men, alterations, nu 

Diseases, battles, inundations : 

All this without th' eclipse o' th' sun. 

Or dreadful comet, he hath done 

By inward light, a way as good. 

And easy to be understood ; bM 

But with more lucky hit than those 

That use to make the stars depose. 

Like Knights o' th' Post, and falsely charge 

Upon themselves what others forge ; 

As if they were consenting to 58« 

All mischiefs in the world men do, 

Or, like the devil, did tempt and sway 'em 

To rogueries, and then betray 'em. 

They'll search a planet's house, to know 

God, I praise thee for discovering the last week, in the day- 
time, a vision, that there were two great armies about York, 
one of the malignant party about the King, the other party 
Parliament and professors : and the better side should have 
help from Heaven against the worst ; about, or at which instant 
of time, we heard the soldiers at York had raised up a sconce 
against Hull, intending to plant fifteen pieces against Hull; 
against which fort Sir John Hothara, Keeper of Hull, by a 
garrison, discharged four great ordnance, and broke down their 
sconce, and killed divers Cavaliers in it. — Lord, I praise thee 
for discovering this victoiy, at the instant of time that it way 
Jone, to my wife, which did then presently confirm her droop 
mg heart, which the last week had been dejected three or foxir 
days, and no arguments could comfort her against the dan- 
gerous times approaching; but when she had prayed to be 
estabUshed in faith in thee, then presently thou didst, by this 
vision, strongly possess her soul that thine and our enemies 
should be overcome." 



PART I. CANTO I. 



29 



lYho broke and robb'd a house below ; 59G 

Examine Venus and the Moon, 

Who stole a thimble or a spoon ; 

And though they nothing will confess, 

Yet by their very looks can guess. 

And tell what guilty aspect bodes, sae 

Who stole, and who receiv'd the goods : 

They'll question Mars, and, by his look, 

Detect who 'twas that nimm'd a cloak ; 

Make Mercury confess, and 'peach 

Those thieves which he himself did teach. 6o0 

They'll find i' th' physiognomies 

0' th' planets, all men's destinies. 

Like him that took the doctor's bill, 

And swallow'd it instead o' th' pill ; 

Cast the nativity o' th' question, 809 

And from positions to be guest on, 

As sure as if they knew the moment 

Of Native's birth, tell what will come on't. 

They'll feel the pulses of the stars, 

To find out agues, coughs, catarrhs, «io 

And tell what crisis does divine 

The rot in sheep, or mange in swine ; 

In men, what gives or cures the itch, 

WTiat makes them cuckolds, poor or rich ; 

What gains or loses, hangs or saves ; •!• 

What makes men great, wha'' fools or knaves, 

But not what wise, for only of those 

The stars (they say) cannot dispose. 

No more than can the astrologians ; 



30 HUDIBKAS. 

There they say right, and like true Trojans : « 
This Ralpho knew, and therefore took 
The other course, of which we spoke. 

Thus was th' accomplish'd Squire endu'd 
With gifts and knowledge per'lous shrewd : 
Never did trusty squire with knight, ea 

Or knight with squire, e'er jump more right. 
Their arms and equipage did fit, 
As well as virtues, parts, and wit : 
Their valours, too, were of a rate ; 
And out they sally'd at the gate. «a 

Few miles on horseback had they jogged, 
But Fortune unto them turn'd dogged j 
For they a sad adventure met. 
Of which anon we mean to treat. 
But ere we venture to unfold « 

Achievements so resolv'd and bold, 
We should, as learned poets use, 
Invoke th' assistance of some Muse, 
However critics count it sillier 
Than jugglers talking to familiar ; 6M 

We think 'tis no great matter which, 
They're all alike, yet we shall pitch 
On one that fits our purpose most, 
Whom therefore thus do we accost. 

Thou that with ale, or viler liquors, e« 

Didst inspire Withers, Pryn, and Vickars, 
And force them, though it was in spite 
Of Nature, and their stars, to write ; 
Who (as we find in sullen writs. 



PilRT I. CANTO 1. 3i 

Ajid cross-grain'd works of modern wits) 650 

With vanity, opinion, want. 

The wonder of the ignorant. 

The praises of the author, penn'd 

W himself or wit-insuring friend. 

The itch of picture in the front, 66fi 

With bays and wicked rhyme upon't, 

(All that is left o' th' Forked hHl 

To make men scribble without skill) 

Canst make a poet, spite of Fate, 

And teach all people to translate, eeo 

Though out of languages in which 

They understand no part of speech ; 

Assist me but this once, I 'mplore, 

And I shall trouble thee no more. 

In western clime there is a town, 665 

To those that dwell therein well known, 
Therefore there needs no more be said here. 
We unto them refer our reader ; 
For brevity is very good. 

When w' are, or are not understood. 870 

To this town people did repair 
On days of market or of fair, 

V. 665. Brentford, which is eight miles west from London, 
is here probably meant, as may be gathered from Part II. 
Cant. ill. V. 995, &c. where he tells the Knight wnat befell 
him there : 

And though you overcame the Bear, 
The dogs bent you tit Brentford fair. 
Where sturdy butche •«* broke your noddle. 



32 iiiDimiAS. 

And to crack M fiddle and hoarse tabor, 

In merriment did drudge and labour : 

But now a sport more formidable 67.-. 

Had rak'd together villasre rabble ; 

'Twas an old way of recreating, 

Which learned butchers call Bear-baiting ; 

A bold advent'rous exercise, 

With ancient heroes in high prize ; c;' 

For authors do affirm it came 

From Isthmian or Nemasan game ; 

Others derive it from the Bear 

That's fix'd in northern hemisphere, 

And round about the pole does make ess 

A circle, like a bear at stake. 

That at the chain's end wheels about, 

And overturns the rabble-rout : 

For, after solemn proclamation 

In the bear's name (as is the fashion ggo 

V. 687. This game is ushered into the Poem with more 
solemnity than those celebrated ones in Homer and Virgil. 
As the Poem is only adorned with this game, and the Ridinjz 
Skimmmgton, so it was incumbent on the Poet to be very 
particular and full in the description: and may we not ven- 
ture to affirm, they arc exactly suitable to the nature of these 
adventures ; and, consequently, to a Briton, preferable to those 
in Homer or Virgil. 

V. 689, 690. Alluding to the bull-running at Tutbury in 
Staffordshire ; where solemn proclamation was made by the 
Steward, before the bull was turned loose ; " That all manner 
of persons give way to the bull, none being to come near him 
by forty fo ">t, any way to hinder the minstrels, but to attend 
his or their own safety, every one at his peril." Dr. Plot's 
tfordslur" ' 



TAKT ir CxVNTO 1. 33 

According to tlie law of arms, 
To keep men from inglorious harms) 
That none presume to come so near 
As forty foot of stake of bear, 
If any yet be so fool-hardy «»s 

T' expose themselves to vain jeopardy, 
If they come wounded off, and lame. 
No honour's got by such a maim. 
Although the bear gain much, being bound 
In honour to make good his ground 700 

When he's engag'd, and takes no notice, 
If any press upon him, who 'tis, 
But lets them kno^v, at their own cost. 
That he intends to keep his post. 
This to prevent and other harms tos 

Which always wait on feats of arms 
(For in the hurry of a fray 
'Tis hard to keej) out of harm's way), 
Thither the Knight his course did steer, 
To keep the peace 'twixt Dog and Bear, 710 

As he behev'd he was bound to do 
In conscience and commission too ; 
And therefore thus bespoke the Squire : 
We that are wisely mounted higher 

"V. 714. Tliis speech is set down as it was delivered by the 
Knight, in his own words; but since it is below the gi'a^nty of 
heroical poetry to admit of humour, but all men are obliged 
to speak wisely alike, and too much of so extravagant a folly 
would become tedious and impertinent, the rest of his ha- 
rangues have only his sense expressed m other words, unless 



34 IlUDIBllAS. 

Than constables in curule wit, Tift 

When on tribunal bench we sit, 

Like speculators should foresee, 

From Pharos of authority, 

Portended mischiefs further than 

Low Proletarian tithing-men ; 720 

And therefore being inform'd by bruit 

That Dog and Bear are to dispute, 

For so of late men fighting name. 

Because they often prove the same 

(For where the first does hap to be, 726 

The last does coincidere) ; 

Quantum in nobis, have thought good 

To save th' expense of Christian blood, 

And try if we by mediation 

Of treaty and accommodation, 730 

Can end the quarrel, and compose 

The bloody duel without blows. 

Are not our liberties, our lives, 

The laws, religion, and our wives. 



In some few places where his own words could not be so well 
avoided. 

V. 715. Had that remarkable motion in the House of Com 
mons taken place, the constables might have vied with Sir 
Hudibras for an equality at least; " That it was necessary 
for the House of Commons to have a High Constable of their 
own, that will make no scruple of laying his Majesty by the 
heels:" but they proceeded not so far as to name any body, 
because Harry ]\rartyn (out of tenderness of conscience in tliis 
particula;) immediately quasiied the motion, by saying, the 
power was too great for any num. 



PART I. CANTO I. 35 

Enough at once to lie at stake 735 

For Cov'nant and the Cause's sake ? 

But in that quarrel Dogs and Bears, 

As well as we, must venture theirs ? 

This feud, by Jesuits invented, 

By evil counsel is fomented ; 7^0 

There is a Machiavilian plot 

(Though ev'ry nare olfact it not) 

And deep design in't to divide 

The well-affected that confide, 

By setting brother against brother, 745 

V. 736. This was the Solemn League and Covenant, which 
was first framed and taken by the Scottish Parliament, and 
by them sent to the Parliament of England, in order to unite 
the two nations more closely in religion. It was received and 
taken by both Houses, and by the City of London ; and ordered 
to be read in all the churches throughout the kingdom; and 
every person Avas bound to give his consent, by holding up his 
hand, at the reading of it. 

V. 736. ' And the Cause's sake.' Sir William Dugdale 
informs us that Mr. Bond, preaching at the Savoy, told his 
auditors from the pulpit, " That they ought to contribute and 
pray, and do all they were able to bring in their brethren of 
Scotland for settling of God's cause: I say. (quoth he) this is 
God's cause ; and if our God hath any cause, this is it ; and 
if this be not God's cause, then God is no God for me; but 
the Devil is got up into Heaven." Mr. Calamy, in his speech 
at Guildhall, 1643, says, " I may truly say, as the Martyr did, 
that if I had as many lives as hairs on my head, I would be 
willing to sacrifice all these lives in this cause; " 

Which pluck'd down the King, the Church, and the Laws, 
To set up an idol, then nick-nam'd The Cause, 
Like Bell and the Dragon to gorge their own maws; 

V it is expressed in " The Kump Carbonaded." 



36 lIL'DlBilAS. 

To claw and curry one another. 

Have we not enemies plus safts, 

That cane et angue pejus liate us ? 

And shall we turn our fangs and claws 

Upon our own selves, without cause ? 75f 

That some occult design doth lie 

In bloody cynarctomachy, 

Is plain enough to him that knows 

How Saints lead Brothers by the nose. 

I wish myself a pseudo-prophet, 7;;5 

But sure some mischief will come of it. 

Unless by providential wit, 

Or force, we averruncate it. 

For wJiat design, what interest, 

Can beast have to encounter beast ? 760 

They fight for no espoused Cause, 

Frail Privilege, Fundamental Laws, 

Nor for a thorough Reformation, 

Nor Covenant, nor Protestation, 

Nor Liberty of consciences, 766 

Nor Lords' and Commons' Ordinances ; 

V. 765. Var. ' Nor for free Liberty of Conscience.' The 
word 'free' was left out in 1674; and Mr. Warburton thinks 
for the worse ; ' free liberty ' being a most beautiful and sa- 
tirical periphrasis for licentiousness, which is the idea the 
Author here intended to give us. 

V. 766. The King being driven from tlie Parhament, no 
legal acts of Parhament could be made; therefore when the 
Lords and Commons had agreed upon any bill, they published 
it, and required obedience to it, under the title of An Ordi 
nance of Lords and Commons, and sometimes, An Urdinancj 
sf Parliament. 



PART I. CANTO r. 



37 



Nor for the Church, nor for Church-lands, 

To get them into their own hands ; 

Nor evil Counsellors to bring 

To justice, that seduce the King ; MO 

Nor for the worship of us men, 

Though we have done as much for them. 

Th' Egyptians worshipp'd dogb, and for 

Their faith made internecine war; 

Others ador'd a rat, and some m 

For that church suffer'd martyrdom ; 

The Indians fought for the truth 

Of th' elephant and monkey's tooth, 

And many, to defend that faith, 

Fought it out mordicus to death ; 78o 

But no beast ever was so slight, 

For man, as for his God, to fight: 

They have more wit, alas ! and know 

Themselves and us better than so. 

But we, who only do infuse r.i) 

The rage in them like houte-feus, 

'Tis our example that instils 

In them th' infection of our ills. 

For, as some late philosophers 

Have well observ'd, beasts that converse TW 

With man take after him, as hogs 

Get pigs all th' year, and bitches dogs ; 

Just so, by our example, cattle 

Learn to give one another battle. 

"We read in Nero's time, the Heathen, i»i 

When they destroy'd the Christian brethren, 



38 HUDIBRAS. 

They sew'd them in the skms of bears, 

And then set dogs about their ears ; 

From whence, no doubt, th' invention cam* 

Of this lewd anticliristian game. 80# 

To this quoth Ralpho, verily 
The point seems very plain to me ; 
[t is an antichristian game, 
Unlawful both in thing and name. 
Fii'st, for the name ; the word Bear-baiting 80S 
Is carnal, and of man's creating. 
For certainly there's no such word 
In all the Scripture on record; 
Therefore unlawful, and a sin : 
And so is (secondly) the thing; sio 

A vile assembly 'tis, that can 
No more be proved by Scripture than 
Provincial, Classic, National, 
Mere human creature cobwebs all. 
Thirdly, it is idolatrous ; 8i6 

For when men run a-whoring thus 
With their inventions, whatsoe'er 
The thing be, whether Dog or Bear, 
It is Idolatrous and Pagan, 
No less than w^orshipping of Dagon. sao 

Quoth Hudibras, I smell a rat ; 
Ralpho, thou dost prevaricate : 
For though the thesis which thou lay's! 
Be true ad amussim, as thou say'st ; 
(For that Bear-baitmg should appear est 

Jiire divino lawfuUer 



TAUT ]. CAXTO T. 39 

Than Synods are, thou dost deny 

Totidem verhis, so do I) 

Y'et there's a fallacy in this ; 

For if by sly homceosis, sso 

Tussis pro crepitu^ an art 

Under a cough to slur a f — t, 

Thou wouldst sophistically imply 

Both are unlawful, I deny. 

And I, quoth Ralpho, do not doubt 835 

But Bear-baiting may be made out, 
In gospel-times, as la^^^ul as is 
Provincial, or Parochial Classis: 
And that both are so near of kin, 
And like in all, as well as sin, 84(! 

That put 'em in a bag, and shake *em. 
Yourself o' th' sudden would mistake 'em. 
And not know which is which, unless 
You measure by their wickedness ; 
For 'tis not hard t' imagine whether 84s 

0' th' two is worst, tho' I name neither. 

Quoth Hudibras, thou offer'st much, 
But art not able to keep touch ; 
Mira de lente, as 'tis i' th' adage, 
Id est, to make a leek a cabbage : esc 

Thou wilt at best but suck a bull. 
Or shear swine, all cry and no wool; 

V. 851. Var. ' Thoix canst at best but overstrain 
A paradox and thy own brain;' 
and 

* Thou'lt be at bcbt but such a bull,' &C. 



iV nUDIBllAS. 

For what can Synods have at all. 

With Bear that's analogical? 

Or what relation has debating tM 

Of Church-afFairs with Bear-baiting? 

A just comparison still is 

Of things ejusdem generis ; 

And then what genus rightly doth 

Include and comprehend them both ? seo 

rf nnimal, both of us may 

As justly pass for Bears as they ; 

For we are animals no less, 

Although of dift'rent specieses. 

But, Ralpho, this is no fit place, 865 

Nor time, to argue out the case : 

For now the field is not far ofi* 

Where we must give the world a proof 

Of deeds, not words, and such as suit 

Another manner of dispute : m 

A controversy that affords 

Actions for arguments, not words ; 

Which we must manage at a rate 

Of prowess and conduct adequate 

To what our place and fame doth promise, 915 

And all the Godly expect from us. 

Nor shall they be deceiv'd, unless 

We're slurr'd and outed by success ; 

Success, the mark no mortal wit, 



V. 860. Var. ' Comprehend them inclusive both.' 
V. 862. Var. ' As likely.' 



PART I. CANTO I. 41 

Or surest hand, can. always hit : 880 

For whatsoe'er we perpetrate, 

We do but row, w' are steer'd by Fate, 

Which in success oft disinherits, 

For spurious causes, noblest merits. 

Great actions are not always true sons sst 

Of great and mighty resolutions ; 

Nor do the bold'st attempts bring forth 

Events still equal to their worth ; 

But sometimes fail, and in their stead 

Fortune and cowardice succeed. 89a 

Yet we have no great cause to doubt, 

Our actions still have borne us out; 

Which though they're known to be so ample, 

We need not copy from example ; 

We're not the only person durst 390 

Attempt this province, nor the first. 

In northern clime a val'rous knight 

Did whilom kill his Bear in fight. 

And wound a Fiddler : we have both 

Of these the objects of our wroth, 901 

And equal fame and glory from 

Th' attempt, or victory to come. 

'Tis sung there is a valiant Mamaluke, 

In foreign land yclep'd — 

V. 904. The writers of the 'General Historical Dictiona- 
ry,' vol. vi. p. 291, imagine, " That the chasm here is to be 
filled with the words ' S'lv Samuel Luke,' because the line be- 
Vore it is often syllables, and the measure of the verse f^eneral- 
'y used in this Poeri is of eiri^ht.'" 

VOL. I. 7 



12 nUDIBKAS. 



i)r. 



To whom we have been oft compar'd 

For person, parts, address, and beard ; 

Both equally reputed stout. 

And in the same cause both have fought ; 

He oft in such attempts as these 

Came off with glory and success ; n^> 

Nor will we fail in th' execution, 

For want of equal resolution. 

Honour is Hke a wddow, won 

With brisk attempt and putting on ; 

With ent'ring manfully, and urging, 9u 

Not slow approaches, like a virgin. 

This said, as yerst the Phrygian knight, 
So ours, with rusty steel did smite 
His Trojan horse, and just as much 
He mended pace upon the touch ; 9-1 

But from his empty stomach groan'd 
Just as that hollow beast did sound, 
^nd angry answer'd from behind. 
With brandish'd tail and blast of wind. 
So have I seen, with armed heel, 92. 

A wight bestride a Commonweal, 
While still the more he kick'd and spurred. 
The less the sullen jade has stirr'd. 



PART 1 CANTO II. 43 



PART I. CANTO II. 

THE ARGUMENT. 

The catalogue and character 
Of th' enemies' best men of war, 
Whom in a bold harangue the Knight 
Defies and challenges to fight: 
H' encounter? Talgol, routs the Bear, 
And takes the Fiddler prisoner, 
Conveys him to enchanted castle, 
There shuts him fast in wooden Bastile. 

There was an ancient sage philosopher 

That had read Alexander Ross over, 

And swore the world, as he could prove, 

Was made of fighting and of love. 

Just so Romances are, for what else 5 

Is in them aU but love and battles ? 

0' th' first of these w* have no great matte? 

To treat of, but a world o' th' latter, 

In which to do the injured right 

We mean, in what concerns just fight. m 

Certes our authors are to blame 

For to make some well-sounding name 

A pattern fit for modern knights 

To copy out in frays and fights 

(Like those that a whole street do raze 15 

To build a palace m '^he place). 



44 HUDIBRAS. 

They never care how many others 

They kill, without regard of mothers, 

Or wives, or cliildren, so they can 

Make up some fierce dead-doing man, m 

Compos'd of many ingredient valours, 

Just like the manhood of nine tailors : 

So a wild Tartar, when he spies 

A man that's handsome, valiant, wise. 

If he can kill him, thinks t' mherit sfl 

His wit, his beauty, and his spirit ; 

As if just so much he enjoy'd, 

As in another is destroy'd : 

For when a giant's slain in fight, 

And mow'd o'erthwart, or cleft downright, to 

It is a heavy case, no doubt, 

A man should have his brains beat out, 

Because he's tall and has large bones, 

As men kiU beavers for their stones. 

But as for our part, we shall tell ss 

The naked truth of what befell, 

And as an equal friend to both 

The Knight and Bear, but more to Troth, 

With neither faction shall take part, 

But give to each his due desert, 41 

And never coin a formal lie on't 

To make the knight o'ercome the giant. 

This b'ing profest, we've hopes enough, 

And now go on where we left off. 

They rode, but authors having not 45 

Determin'd whether pace or trot 



PART I. CANTO 11. 45 

(That is to saj, whether toUutation, 

As they do term 't, or succussation), 

We leave it, and go on, as now 

Suppose thej did, no matter how ; oo 

Yet some, from subtle hints, have got 

Mysterious light it was a trot ; 

But let that pass : they now begun 

To spur their hving engines on : 

For as whipp'd tops and bandy'd balls, aa 

The learned hold, are animals ; 

So horses they affirm to be 

Mere engines made by Geometry, 

And were invented first from engines, 

As Indian Britains were from Penguins. «o 

So let them be, and, as I was saying. 

They their live engines ply'd, not staying 

Until they reach'd the fatal champain 

Which th' enemy did then encamp on ; 

The dire Pharsalian plain, where battle «» 

Was to be wag'd 'twixt puissant cattle, 

And fierce, auxiliary men. 

That came to aid their brethren, 

Who now began to take the field, 

As Elnight from ridge of steed beheld. i$ 

For as our modern wits behold, 

Mounted a pick-back on the old, 

Much further off, much further he, 

Rais'd on his aged beast, could see ; 

Yet not sufficient to descry w 

V 74. V^ar. 'From off.' 



io IJLDIBKAS. 

All postures of the enemy, 

Wherefore he bids the Squu^e ride further, 

T' observe their numbers and tlieir order, 

That, when theu' motions he had known, 

He might know how to fit his own. so 

Mean- while he stopp'd his wiUing steed, 

To fit himself for martial deed : 

Both kinds of metal he prepar'd, 

Either to give blows or to ward ; 

Courage and steel, both of great force, ss 

Prepar'd for better or for worse. 

His death-charg'd pistols he did fit well, 

Drawn out from life-preserving vittle ; 

These being prim'd, with force he labour'd 

To free 's sword from retentive scabbard, 90 

And after many a painful pluck, 

From rusty durance he bail'd tuck : 

Then shook himself, to see that prowess 

In scabbard of his arms sat loose ; 

And, rais'd upon his desp'rate foot, m 

On stirrup-side he gaz'd about, 

Portending blood, like blazing star, 

The beacon of approaching war. 

Ralpho rode on with no less speed 

Than Hugo in the forest did ; loo 

V. 85, 86. Var. ' Courage within, and steel without, 

To give and to receive a rout.' 
V. 92. Var. * He clear'd at length the rugjjed tuck.' 
V. 99, 100. Var. ' The Squire advanc'd Avith greater speeil 
Than could b' expected from hi? steed : ' 



PART I. CANTO 11. 47 

But far more in returning made, 

For now the foe be had survey'd, 

Rang'd, as to him they did appear, 

With van, main-battle, wings and rear. 

I' th' head of all this warhke rabble, I06 

Crowdero march'd expert and able ; 

Instead of trumpet and of drum, 

That makes the warrior's stomach come, 

Whose noise whets valour sharp, like beer 

By thunder turn'd to vinegar ; iio 

(For if a trumpet sound or drum beat 

Who has not a month's mind to combat?) 

A squeaking engine he apply'd 

Unto his neck, on north-east side, 

Just where the hangman does dispose 110 

To special friends the knot of noose : 

For 'tis great grace when statesmen straight 

Dispatch a friend, let others wait. 

His warped ear hung o'er the strings. 

Which was but souse to chitterlings ; 120 

For guts, some write, ere they are sodden, 

V. 101, 102. Var. But ' with a great deal ' more ' retum'd,' 

For now the foe he had ' discern'd.' 
V. 106. So called from ' croud,' a fiddle : This was one 
Jackson, a milUner, who hved in the New Exchange in the 
Strand. He had formerly been in the service of the Round- 
heads, and had lost a leg in it; this brought him to decay, so 
that he was obliged to scrape upon a fiddle, from one ale-house 
to another, for his bread. Mr. Butler very judiciously places 
him at the head of his catalogue: for country diversions are 
E;enerally attended with a ficU'ler or bagpiper. 



48 HUDIBRAS. 

Are fit for music or for pudden ; 

From whence men borrow ev'ry kind 

Of minstrelsy by string or wind. 

His grisly beard was long and thick, 12* 

With which he strung his fiddlestick, 

For he to horse-tail scorn'd to owe 

For what on his own chin did grow ; 

Chu'on, the four-legg'd bard, had both 

A beard and tail of his own growth, iso 

And yet by authors 'tis averr'd 

He made use only of his beard. 

In Staffordshire, where virtuous worth 

Does raise the minstrelsy, not birth. 

Where bulls do choose the boldest king lu 

And ruler o'er the men of string 

(As once in Persia, 'tis said. 

Kings were proclaim'd by a horse that neigh'd), 

He, bravely vent'ring at a crown. 

By chance of war was beaten down, i48 

And wounded sore ; his leg then broke 

Had got a deputy of oak : 

For when a shin in fight is cropt. 

The knee with one of timber's propt, 

Esteem'd more honourable than the other, ut 

And takes place, though the younger brother. 

Next march'd brave Orsin, famous for 
Wise conduct and success in war ; 

V. 147. Var. ' Next follow'd.' Joshua Gosling, who kepi 
bears at Paris-garden, in Southwark. However, says Sii 
Rog-er, he stood hard and fast for the Rump rarUament. 



PART I. CANTO II. 49 

A skilful leader, stout, severe. 

Now Marshal to the champion Bear. im 

With truncheon tipp'd with iron head, 

The warrior to the Ksts he led ; 

With solemn march and stately pace, 

But far more grave and solemn face ; 

Grave as the emperor of Pegu, isa 

Or Spanish potentate, Don Diego. 

This leader was of knowledge great, 

Either for charge or for retreat ; 

He knew when to fall on pell-mell, 

To fall back and retreat as well : ISO 

So lawyers, lest the Bear defendant 

And plaintiff Dog should make an end on't, 

Do stave and tail with writs of En or, 

Reverse of Judgment, and Demurrer, 

To let them breathe awhile, and then iti 

Cry Whoop and set them on agen. 

As Romulus a wolf did rear. 

So he was dry-nurs'd by a bear. 

That fed him with the purchas'd prey 

Of many a fierce and bloody fray ; 170 

Bred up, where discipline most rare is, 

In military garden Paris : 

For soldiers heretofore did grow 

In gardens just as weeds do now. 

Until some splay-foot politicians 174 



V. 159, 160. Var. ' Knew when t' engage his bear pell-meli, 
And when to bring him off a? well.' 



50 HUDIBHAS. 

T' AjK)l]o ofFer'd up petitions 

For licensing a new invention 

Til' had found out of an antique engine, 

To root out all the weeds that grow 

In public gardens, at a blow, isd 

And leave th' herbs standing. Quoth Sir Sun, 

My friends, that is not to be done. 

Not done ! quoth Statesman ; Yes, an't please ye, 

When 'tis once known you'll say 'tis easy. 

Why then let's know it, quoth Apollo : lea 

We'll beat a drum, and they'll all follow. 

A drum ! (quoth Phoebus) Troth, that's true, 

A pretty invention, quaint and new : 

But though of voice and instrument 

We are th' undoubted president, i9o 

We such loud music do not profess, 

The Devil's master of that office, 

Where it must pass ; if 't be a drum. 

He'll sign it with Gler. Pari. Dom. Com. ; 

To him apply yourselves, and he i9d 

Will soon dispatch you for his fee. 

They did so, but it prov'd so ill 

Th' had better let 'em grow there still. 

But to resume what we discoursing 

Were on before, that is, stout Orsin : 200 

That which so oft by sundry writers 

v. 194. The House of Commons, even before the Rump 
had murdered the King, and expelled the House of Lords 
asurped many branches of the Royal prerogative, and particu- 
irly this for granting licenses for new inventions. 



PART I. CANTO II. 51 

Has been appiy'd t' almost all fighters, 

More justly may b' ascrib'd to this 

Thau any other warrior, (viz.) 

None ever acted both parts bolder, toi 

Both of a chieftain and a soldier. 

He was of great descent, and high 

For splendour and antiquity, 

And from celestial origine 

Deriv'd himself in a right line: 910 

Not as the ancient heroes did. 

Who, that their base births might be hid 

(Knowing they were of doubtful gender, 

And that they came in at a windore), 

Made Jupiter himself and others aia 

O' th' gods gallants to their own mothers, 

To get on them a race of champions, 

(Of which old Homer first made lampoons). 

Arctophylax, in northern sphere, 

Was his undoubted ancestor ; 33c 

From him his great forefathers came, 

And in all ages bore his name. 

Learned he was in med'c'nal lore. 

For by his side a pouch he wore 

Replete with strange hermetic powder, 33a 

That wounds nine miles point-blank would solder ; 

By skilful chemist with great cost 

Extracted from a rotten post; 



V. 211. This is one instance of the Author's making greaf 
things little, though his talent lay cb'efly the other way. 



52 HUDTBRAS. 

But of a heav'nlier influence 

Than that which mountebanks dispense, 2% 

Though by Promethean fire made ; 

As they do quack that drive that trade. 

For as, when slovens do amiss 

At others' doors, by stool or piss, 

The learned write a red-hot spit 233 

B'ing prudently apply'd to it 

Will convey mischief from the dung 

Unto the part that did the wrong, 

So this did healing ; and, as sure 

As that did mischief, this would cure. 24(1 

Thus virtuous Orsin was endu'd 
With learning, conduct, fortitude 
Incomparable ; and as the prince 
Of poets. Homer, sung long since, 
A skilful leech is better far 245 

Than half a hundred men of war ; 
So he appear'd, and by his skill, 
No less than dint of sword, could kill. 

The gallant Bruin march'd next him, 
With visage formidably grim, 21) 

And rugged as a Saracen, 
Or Turk of Mahomet's own kin ; 
Clad in a mantle delle guerre 
Of rough impenetrable fur, 
And in his nose, like Indian king, 2"j 

He wore, for ornament, a ring ; 

V. 238. Var. Unto the * breech.' 



PART I. CANTO 11. «>ti 

M out liis neck a threefold gorget, 

As rough as trebled leathern target ; 

Armed, as heralds, cant and langued, 

Or, as the vulgar say, sharp-fanged: %iini 

For as the teeth in beasts of prey 

Are swords, with which they fight in fray, 

So swords, in men of war, are teeth 

Wliich they do eat their vittle with. 

He was by birth, some authors write, 265 

A Russian, some a Muscovite, 

And 'mong the Cossacks had been bred, 

Of whom we in Diurnals read. 

That serve to fill up pages here, 

As with their bodies ditches there. tie 

Scrimansky was his cousin-german, 

With whom he serv'd, and fed on vermin ; 

And when these fail'd he'd suck his claws, 

And quarter himself upon his paws : 

And though his countrymen, the Huns,. 275 

Did stew their meat between their bums 

And th' horses' backs o'er which they straddle, 

And ev'ry man ate up his saddle ; 

He was not half so nice as they. 

But ate it raw when 't came in 's way. aso 

H' had traed the countries far and near 

More than Le Blanc the traveller. 

Who writes, he spous'd in Lidia, 

Of noble house a lady gay. 

And got on her a race of worthies 

As stout as any upon earth is. 



64 nCDIBRAS. 

JB ull many a fight for him between 

Talgol and Orsin oft had been, 

Each striving to deserve the cro\\'D. 

Of a sav'd citizen ; the one 9M 

To guard his Bear, the other fought 

To aid his Dog ; both made more stout 

By sev'ral spurs of neighborhood, 

Church-fellow-membership, and blood : 

But Talgol, mortal foe to cows, S9S 

Never got aught from him but blows, 

Blows hard and heavy, such as he 

Had lent, repaid with usury. 

Yet Talgol was of courage stout, 
And vanquish'd oft'ner than he fought ; soo 

Inur'd to labour, sweat and toil. 
And, like a champion, shone with oil: 
Right many a widow his keen blade, 
And many fatherless, had made ; 
He many a boar and huge dun-cow aoo 

Did, like another Guy, o'erthrow : 
But Guy with him in fight compar'd, 
Had like the boar or dun-cow far'd 
With greater troops of sheep h' had fought 
Than Ajax or bold Don Quixote ; sic 

And many a serpent of fell kind, 
With wings before and stings behind, 
Subdii'd ; as, poets say, long agone 

V. 299. A butcher in Newgate-market, who afterwards ob- 
tained a captain's commission for liis rebellious braveiy al 
Naseby, as Sir R. L' Estrange observes. 



PART I. CANTO 11. 55 

Bold Sir George Saint George did the Dragon. 

Nor engine, nor device polemic, 3is 

Disease, nor doctor epidemic. 

Though stor'd with deletery med'cines, 

(Which whosoever took is dead since) 

E'er sent so vast a colony 

To both the under worlds as he ; sso 

For he was of that noble trade 

That demi-gods and heroes made, 

Slaughter, and knocking on the head, 

The trade to wliich they all were bred ; 

And is, like others, glorious when 335 

'Tis great and large, but base, if mean : 

The former rides in triumph for it. 

The latter in a two-wheel'd chariot, 

For darmg to profane a thing 

So sacred with vile bungling. aso 

Next these the brave Magnano came, 
Magnano great in martial fame ; 
Yet when with Orsin he wag'd fijrht, 
'Tis sung he got but little by 't : 
Yet he was fierce as forest boar, g35 

Whose spoils upon his back he wore. 
As thick as Ajax' sevenfold shield. 
Which o'er his brazen arms he held : 
But brass was feeble to resist 

V. 331. Simeon Wait, a tinker, as famous an Independent 
preacher as Burroughs, who, with equal blasphemy to his 
Lord of Hosts, would styL« Oliver Cromwell the Archangel 
eiving battle to the Devil. 



5G . HUDIBRAS. 

The fuiy of liIs armed fist, 34c 

Nor could the hardest iron hold out 
Against his blows, but they would through 't. 

In magic he was deeply read, 
As he that made the brazen-head ; 
Profoundly skill'd in the black art, ni- 

As P^nglish Merlin for his heart ; 
But far more skilful in the spheres 
Than he was at the sieve and shears. 
He could transform himself in colour, 
As like the Devil as a coUier ; 35 1 

As like the hypocrites in show 
Are to true saints, or crow to crow. 

Of warlike engines he was author, 
Devis'd for quick dispatch of slaughter: 
The cannon, blunderbuss, and saker, ses 

He was th' inventor of, and maker: 
The trumpet and the kettle-drum 
Did both from his invention come. 
He was the first that e'er did teach 
To make, and how to stop a breach. aw 

A lance he bore with iron pike, 
Th' one half would thrust, the other strike ; 
iViid when their forces he had join'd. 
He scorn'd to turn his parts behind. 

He Trulla lov'd, Trulla more bright ses 

V. 365. The daughter of James Spenser, debauched by 
Magnano the tinker; so called because the tinker's wife 01 
mistress was commonly called his ' trull.' See " The Cox 
comb," a comedy. 



TAKT T. CANTO IT. 57 

TI;an burnisli'd armour of her knight; 

A bold virago, stout and tall, 

As Joan of France, or English Mall: 

Through perils both of wind and limb^ 

Through thick and thin she foUow'd hum, 87« 

In ev'ry adventure h' undertook, 

And never him nor it forsook : 

At breech of wall, or hedge surprize, 

She shar'd i' th' hazard and the prize ; 

At beatmg quarters up, or forage, 87fi 

Behav'd herself with matchless courage, 

And laid about in fight more busily 

Than th' Amazonian Dame Penthesile. 

And though some critics here cry shame, 

And say our authors are to blame, ^ 

That (spite of all philosophers, 

Who hold no females stout but bears. 

And heretofore did so abhor 

That women should pretend to war, 

They would not suffer the stout'st dame s&a 

To swear by Hercules's name) 

Make feeble ladies, in their works. 

To fight like termagants and Turks ; 

To lay their native arms aside, 

V. 368. Alluding probably to Mary Carlton, called ' Kent- 
isa Moll,' but more commonly * The German Princess; ' a per- 
son notorious at the time this First Part of Hudib)-as was 
published. She was transported to Jamaica, 1671, but return 
ing from transportation too soon, she was hanged at Tybuni, 
Jan. 22, 1672-3. 

VOL. I. 8 



58 HCDIBRAS. 

Their modesty, and ride astride ; soo 

To run a-tilt at men, and wield 

Their naked tools in open field ; 

As stout Armida, boid. Thalestris, 

And she that would have been the mistress 

Of Gundibert, but he had grace, 39s 

And rather took a country lass ; 

They say 'tis false without all sense, 

But of pernicious consequence 

To government, w^hich they suppose 

Can never be upheld in prose ; 400 

Strip Nature naked to the skin, 

You'll find about her no such thing : 

It may be so, yet what we tell 

Of TruUa that's improbable. 

Shall be depos'd by those have seen % 401 

Or, what's as good, produc'd in print ; 

And if they will not take our word. 

We'll prove it true upon record. 

The upright Cerdon next advanc't, 
Of all his race the valiant'st ; 413 

Cerdcm the Great, renown'd in song, 
Like Herc'les, for repair of wrong : 

V. 409. 'Cerdon.' A one-eyed cobbler, like his brother 
Colonel Hewson. The poet observes that his chief talent lay 
in preaching. Is it not then indecent, and beyond the rules 
of deeorinn, to introduce him into such rough company? No ; 
it is probable he had but newl}' set up tlie trade of a teacher, 
and we may conclude that the poet did not think that he had 
so much sanctity as to debar him the pleasure of his beloved 
diversion of bear-baiting. 



PART I. CANTO IT. 59 

He raised the low, and fortify'd 

The weak a2;ainst the stronsrest side : 

111 has he read that never hit 416 

On him in Muses' deathless writ. 

He had a weapon keen and fierce, 

That through a bull-hide shield would pierce, 

And cut it in a thousand pieces. 

Though tougher than the Knight of Greece his, 420 

With whom his black-thumb'd ancestor 

Was comrade in the ten-years' war : 

For when the restless Greeks sat down 

So many years before Troy town, 

And were renown'd, as Homer writes, 425 

For well-sol'd boots no less than fights, 

They ow'd that glory only to 

His ancestor, that made them so. 

Fast friend he was to reformation. 

Until 'twas worn quite out of fashion ; 4so 

Next rectifier of wry law. 

And would make three to cure one flaw. 

Learned he was, and could take note. 

Transcribe, collect, translate, and quote : 

But preaching was his chiefest talent, 435 

V. 435. Mechanics of all sorts were then preachers, and 
some of them much followed and admired by the mob. " I 
ftm to tell thee, Christian Reader," says Dr. Featley Preface 
to his "Dipper Dipped," wrote 1645, and published 1647, p. 1, 
" this new year of new changes, never heard of in former 
ages, namely, of stables turned into temples, and. I will beg 
leave to add, temples turned into stables (as was that of St. 
^aul's, and many more), stalls into quires, shop-boards into 



60 HUDIBRAS. 

Or argument, in which being variant, 
He us'd to lay about and stickle, 
Like ram or bull, at Conventicle : 
For disputants, like rams and bulls. 
Do fight with arms that spring from sculls. 44^ 
Last Colon came, bold man of war, 

communion-tables, tubs into pulpits, aprons into linen ephods, 
and mechanics of the lowest rank into priests of the high 
places. — I wonder that our door-posts and walls sweat not, 
upon which such notes as these have been lately affixed ; on 
such a day such a brewer's clerk exerciseth, such a tailor 
expoundeth, such a waterman teacheth. — If cooks, instead 
of mincing their meat, fall upon dividing of the Word; if 
tailors leap up from the shop-board into the pulpit, and patch 
up sermons out of stolen shreds ; if not only of the lowest of 
the people, as in Jeroboam's time, priests are consecrated to 
the Most High God — do we marvel to see such confusion in 
the Church as there is? " They are humorously girded in a 
tract entitled, ' The Reformado precisely character'd, by a 
modern Churchwarden,' p. 11. " Here are felt-makers," says 
he, " who can roundly deal with the blockheads and neutral 
dimicasters of the world ; cobblers who can give good rules 
for upright walking, and handle Scripture to a bristle ; coach- 
men who know how to lash the beastly enormities, and curb 
the head-strong insolences of this brutish age, stoutly exhort- 
ing us to stand up for the truth, lest the wheel of destruction 
roundly overrun us. We have weavers that can sweetly 
inform us of the shuttle swiftness of the times, and practical- 
ly tread out the vicissitude of all sublunary things, till the 
web of our life be cut off: and here ai-e mechanics of my 
px'ofession who can separate the pieces of salvation from those 
of damnation, measure out every man's portion, and cut it 
out by a thread, substantially pressing the points, till thev 
have fashionably filled up their work with a well-bottomed 
conclusion." 
V. 441. ' Colon.' Ned Perry, an hostler. 



PART I. CANTO II. 61 

Destin'd to blows by fatal star, 

Right expert in command of horse, 

But cruel, and without remorse. 

That which of Centaur long ago 44« 

Was said, and has been wrested to 

Some other knights, was true of this ; 

He and his horse were of a piece. 

One spirit did inform them both, 

The self-same vigour, fury, wroth ; la 

Yet he was much the rougher part. 

And always had a harder heart. 

Although his horse had been of those 

That fed on man's flesh, as fame goes 

Strange food for horse ! and yet, alas »& 

It may be true, for flesh is grass. 

Sturdy he was, and no less able 

Than Hercules to clean a stable; 

As great a drover, and as great 

A critic too, in hog or neat. 4«e 

He ripp'd the womb up of his mother, 

Dame Tellus, 'cause she wanted fother 

And provender, wherewith to feed 

Himself and his less cruel steed. 

It was a question whether he 46a 

Or 's horse were of a family 

More worshipful ; till antiquaries 

(After they'd almost por'd out their eyes) 

Did very learnedly decide 

The bus'ness on the horse's side, 47 j 

And prov'd not only horse, but cows, 



62 HUDIBRAS. 

Nay pigs, were of the elder house : 

For beasts, when man was but a piece 

Of earth himself, did th' earth possess. 

These worthies were the chief that led 47# 

The combatants, each in the head 

Of his command, with arms and rage 

Keady and longing to engage. 

The num'rous rabble was drawn out 

Of sev'ral counties round about, 49 

From villages remote, and shires 

Of east and western hemispheres. 

From foreign parishes and regions. 

Of different manners, speech, religions, 

Came men and mastiffs ; some to fight 49 

For fame and honour, some for sight. 

And now the field of death, the lists. 

Were enter'd by antagonists. 

And blood was ready to be broach'd, 

When Hudibras in haste approach'd, 4f 

With Squire and weapons to attack 'em ; 

But first thus from his horse bespake 'em. 

What rage, O Citizens ! what fury. 
Doth you to these dire actions hurry? 
What oestrum, what phrenetic mood, m 

Makes you thus lavish of your blood. 
While the proud Vies your trophies boast, 
And unreveng'd walks Waller's ghost ? 



V. 495. ' Oestnim ' signifies the gad-bee or horse-fly. 
V. 497. Sir W. Waller was defeated at the Devises. 



PART I. CANTO II. 63 

Wliat towns, what garrisons, might you 

With hazard of this blood subdue, 500 

Which now y' are bent to throw away 

In vain untriumphable fray ? 

Shall saints in civil bloodshed wallow 

Of saints, and let the cause lie fallow? 

The cause, for which we fought and swore soa 

So boldly, shall we now give o'er ? 

Then, because quarrels still are seen 

With oaths and swearings to begin, 

The Solemn League and Covenant 

Will seem a mere God-dam-me rant, 610 

And we that took it, and have fought, 

As lewd as drunkards that fall out ; 

For as we make war for the King 

Against himself, the self-same thing, 

Some will not stick to swear, we do 6ii 

For God and for Religion too : 

For, if Bear-baiting we allow, 

What good can Reformation do ? 

The blood and treasure that's laid out 

V. 503, 504. Mr. Walker observes, " That all the cheating, 
covetous, ambitious persons of the land were united together 
under the title of the Godly, the Saints, and shared the fat of 
the land between them ; " and he calls them the Saints who 
were canonized no-where but in the Devil's Calendar. 

V. 513, 514. The Presbyterians, m all their wars against 
the king, maintained still that they fought for him ; for they 
pretended to distinguish his political person from his natural 
^me: his political person, they said, must be and was with 
Vie Parliament, though his natural rrerson was at war with 
them. 



64 HUDIBRAS. 

Is thrown away, and goes for nought. 

Are these the fruits o' th' Protestation, 

The prototype of Reformation, 

Which all the saints, and some, since martyrs, 

Wore in their hats like wedding-garters, 

When 'twas resolved by either House 626 

Six Members' quarrel to espouse ? 

Did they for this draw down the rabble, 

With zeal and noises formidable. 

And make all cries about the town 

Join throats to cry the Bishops down ? 630 

Wlio having round begirt the palace, 

(As once a month they do the gallows). 

As Members gave the sign about, 

Set up theu' throats with hideous shout. 

When tinkers bawl'd aloud to settle 535 

Church-Discipline, for patching kettle ; 

No sow-gelder did blow his horn 

To geld a cat, but cry'd Reform ; 

The oyster-women lock'd their fish up. 

And trudg'd away to cry No Bishop ; 640 

The mouse-trap men laid save-alls by, 

.Ajad 'gainst Ev'l Counsellors did cry ; 

Botchers left old clothes in the lurch, 

Atid fell to turn and patch the Church ; 

V, 530. " Good Lord ! " (says the ' True Informer,' p. 12,; 
*' what a deal of dii't was thrown in the Bishops' faces ! — what 
infamous ballads were sung ! — what a tliick cloud of epiderai. 
cal hatred hung suddenly over them I so ftir, that a dog with 
a black and white fiice \v:is t-alicd a 'Bishop.' " 



PART I. CANTO IT. Cl 

Some c.rj'd the Covenant, instead 64fl 

Of pudding-pies and gingerbread ; 

And some for brooms, old boots and shoes, 

Bawl'd out to purge the Common-House ; 

Instead of kitchen-stuff, some cry 

A Gospel-preaching ministry ; 55- 

And some for old suits, coats, or cloak, 

No Surplices nor Service-book : 

A stransre harmonious inclination 

Of all degrees to Reformation. 

And is this all ? Is this the end 555 

To which these carr'ing,- on did tend ? 

Hath Public faith, like a young heir, 

For this tak'n up all soi^ts of ware, 

And run int' ev'ry tradesman's book, 

Till both turn'd bankrupts and are broke ? sso 

Did Saints for this bring in their plate, 

And crowd as if they came too late ? 

For, when they thought the ca,use had need on't, 

Happy was he that could be rid on't. 

Did they coin piss-pots, bowls, and flaggons, 565 

Int' officers of horse and dragoons ? 

And into pikes and musqueteers 

Stamp beakers, cups, and porringers ? 



V. 553, 554. Those flights, which seem most extravagant 
In our Poet, were really excelled by matter of fact. The Scots 
(in their * Large Declaration,' 1637, p 41) begin their petition 
against the Common Prayer-Hook thus: — " We men, women, 
and children, and servants, having cousidered," ^c. ' Puulis's 
Hist, of Wicked Plots." 



66 HUDIBRAS- 

A thimble, bodkin, and a spoon, 

Did start up living men as soon w« 

As in the furnace they were thrown, 

Just like the di^agon's teeth being sown. 

Then was the Cause of gold and plate, 

The Brethren's off'rings, consecrate. 

Like th' Hebrew calf, and down before it 676 

The Saints fell prostrate, to adore it : 

So say the Wicked — and will you 

Make that sarcasmus scandal true 

By running after Dogs and Bears, 

Beasts more unclean than calves or steers ? 680 

Have pow'rful Preachers ply'd their tongues, 

And laid themselves out and their lungs ; 

Us'd all means, both direct and sinister, 

I' th' pow'r of Gospel-preaching JViinister ? 

Have they invented tones to win om 

The women and make them draw in 

The men, as Indians with a female 

Tame elephant inveigle the male ? 

Have they told Prov'dence what it must do, 

V. 589. It was a common practice to inform God of the 
transactions oftTie times. "Oh! my Good Lord God," says 
Mr. G. Swathe, * Prayers,' p. 12, " T hear the King hath set 
up his standard at York against the Parliament and city of 
London. — Look thou upon them, take their cause into tliine 
own hand; appear thou in the cause of thy Saints, tlie cause 
in hand. — It is thy cause. Lord. We know that the King 
IS misled, deluded, and deceived by his Popish, AiTninum, 
and temporising, rel)ellious, malignant faction and party," 
&c. " They would," says Dr. Echard, " in their prayers and 
sermons, tell God, that they would be willing to be at any 



PART I. CANTO II. 67 

Whom to avoid, and whom to trust to 'i 69G 

Discover'd th' Enemy's design, 

And which way best to countermine ? 

Prescrib'd wliat ways it hath to work, 

Or it will ne'er advance the Kirk ? 

Told it the news o' th' last express, 695 

And after good or bad success 

Made prayers, not so like petitions 

charge and trouble for him, and to do as it were any kindness 
for the Lord ; the Lord might now trust tliem, and rely upon them, 
they should not fail him ; they should not be unmindful of liis 
business ; his works should not stand stUl, nor his designs be ne- 
glected. They must needs say that they had formerly received 
some favours from God, and have been as it were beholden to the 
Almighty; but they did not much question but they should 
find some opportunity of making some amends for the many 
good things, and (as I may so say) civilities which they had 
received from liim. Indeed, as for those that are weak in the 
Faith, and are yet but babes in Christ, it is fit that they should 
keep at some distance from God, should kneel before him, and 
stand (as I may say) cap in hand to the Ahnighty: but as for 
those that are strong in all Gifts, and grown up in all Grace, 
and are come to a fulness and ripeness in the Lord Jesus, it is 
comely enough to take a gi-eat chair, and sit at the end of the 
table, and, with their cock'd hats on their heads, to say, God, 
we thought it not amiss to call upon thee this evening, and let 
thee know how affairs stand. We have been very watchful 
since we were last with thee, and they are in a very hopeful 
condition. We hope that thou wUt not forget us ; for we are 
very thoughtful of thy concerns. We do somewhat long to 
lear from thee ; and if thou pleasest to give us such a thing 
1' Victory '), we shall be (as I may so say) good to thee in some- 
thing else when it lies in our way." See i remarkable Scotch 
Prayer much to the snme purpose, ' Scourge,' by Mr. Lewis 
No. XVL p. 130, edit. 1717. 



68 HUDIBRAS. 

As overtures and propositions 

(Such as the Army did present 

To their Creator, th' Parl'ament), eaa 

In wliich they freely will confess 

They will not, cannot acquiesce, 

Unless the Work be carry'd on 

In the same way they have begun, 

By setting Church and Commonweal 605 

All on a flame, bright as their zeal, 

Cn which the Saints were all agog. 

And all this for a Bear and Dog ? 

The Parl'ament drew up petitions 

-lo 'tself, and sent them, like commissions, 6io 

To well-affected persons down, 

V. 602. Alluding probably to their profane expostulations 
^\ith God from the pulpit. Mr. Vines, in St. Clement's Cliurch, 
near Temple-bar, used the following words : " Lord, thou 
hast never given us a victoiy this long while, for aU our fre- 
quent fasting. What dost thou mean, Lord, to fling into a 
Jitch, and there to leave us?" And one Robinson, in his 
prayer at Southampton, Aug. 25, 1642, expressed himself in 
the following manner: " God, God, many are the hands 
that are lift up against us, but there is one God, it is thou thy- 
.-elf, O Father, who does us more miscluef than they all." 
They seemed to encourage this profanity in their pubhc ser- 
mons. " Gather upon God," says Mr. R. Harris, ' Fast Ser- 
mons before the Commons,' " and hold him to it, as Jacob did: 
press him with his precepts, with his promises, with his hand, 
witb Lis seal, with his oath, till we do dvacorreiv, as some 
Greek Fathers boldly speak; that is, if I may speak it rev 
erently enough, put the Lord out of countenance; put hira 
as you woul',! say, to the blush, unless we be masters of ouf 
requests." 



PART I. CANTO II. 69 

In ijvei'j city and great town, 
With pow'r to levy horse and men, 
Only to bring them ba(;k agen ? 
P^or this did many, many a mile, »i5 

Kide manfully in rank and file, 
With papers in their hats, that show'd 
As if they to the pill'ry rode ? 
Have all these courses, these efforts, 
"Been try'd by people of all sorts, 630 

Veils et remis, omnibus nervis, 
And all t' advance the Cause's service ; 
And shall all now be throwTi away 
In petulent intestine fray ? 

Shall we, that in the Cov'nant swore 625 

Each man of us to run before 
Another, still in Reformation 
Give Dogs and Bears a dispensation ? 
How will Dissenting Brethren reUsh it ? 
Wliat will Malignants say ? Videlicet, 630 

That each man swore to do his best 
To damn and perjure all the rest ; 
And bid the devil take the hin'most, 
Wliich at this race is hke to win most. 
They'll say our bus'ness to Reform 686 

The Church and State, is but a worm ; 
For to subscribe, unsight unseen, 
To an unknown Church discipline, 
What is it else but beforehand 
T' engage and after understand ? 940 

For when we swore to carry on 



70 euuiBRAs. 

The present Reformation, 

According to tlie purest mode 

Of churches best reform'd abroad, 

Wliat did we else but make a vow 645 

To do we know not what, nor how ? 

For no three of us will agree 

Where, or what churches these should be : 

And is indeed the self-same case 

With those that swore et cceterus ; 639 

Ur the Frendi League, in which men vow'd 

To fight the last drop of blood. 

These slanders will be thrown upon 

The cause and work we carry on. 

If we permit men to run headlong ess 

T' exorbitances fit for Bedlam, 

Rather than gospel-walking times. 

When slightest sins are greatest crimes. 

But we the matter so shall handle 

As to remove that odious scandal : 660 

In name of King and Parl'ament, 

I charge ye all, no more foment 

V. 651. The Holy League in France, designed and made 
for extirpation of the Protestant religion, was the on'ginal out 
of which the Solemn League and Covenant here was (with 
difference only of circumstances) most faithfully transcribed. 
Nor did the success of both differ more than the intent and 
purpose ; for, after the destruction of vast numbers of people 
of all sorts, both ended with the murder of two kings, whom 
they had both sworn to defend. And as our Covenanters 
swore every man to run one before another in the way of Re- 
formation, so did the French, in the Holy League, to fight tfl 
Uie last drop of blood. 



PART I. CANTO II. 71 

This feud, but keep the peace between 

Your brethren and your countrymen, 

And to those places straight repair 685 

Where your respective dwellings are. 

But to that purpose first surrender 

The Fiddler, as the prime offender, 

Th' incendiary vile, that is chief 

Author and engineer of mischief ; 670 

That makes division between friends. 

For profane and malignant ends. 

He, and that engine of vile noise 

On which illegally he plays, 

Shall {dictum factum) both be brought 676 

To condign pun'shment, as they ought : 

This must be done, and I would fain see 

Mortal so sturdy as to gainsay ; 

V. 673 - 676. The threatening punishment to the Fiddle was 
much hke the threats of the pragmatical troopers to punish 
Ralph Dobbin's waggon, ' Plam Dealer,' vol. i. " I was dri- 
ving," says he, " into a town upon the 29th of ilay. where my 
waggon was to dine. There came up in a great rage seven or 
eight of the troopers that were quartered there, and asked, 
* Wliat I bushed out ray horses for? ' I told them, ' To diive 
flies away.' But they said, I was a Jacobite rascal, that my 
horses were guilty of high treason, and my waggon ought to 
be hanged. I answered, ' it was already drawn, and witliin 
a yard or two of being quartered; but as to being hanged, 
it was a compUment we had no occasion for, and tlierefore 
desired them to take it back agam, and keep it m their own 
.ands, till they had an opportunity to make use of it.' I had 
.,o sooner spoke these words, but they feV upon me like thun- 
der, stript my cattle in a twmkling, and beat me black and 
•^inp with my own oak branches." 



72 IlUDIBllAS. 

For then I'll take another course, 
And soon reduce you all by force. eso 

This said, he clapt his hand on sword, 
'l 3 show he meant to keep his word. 
]^ut Talgol, who had long supprest 
Inflamed wrath in glowing breast, 
Wliich now began to rage and burn as 68a 

Implacably as flame in furnace, 
Thus answer'd him : Thou vermin wretched, 
As e'er in measled pork was hatched ; 
Thou tail of worship, that dost grow 
On rump of justice as of cow ; 690 

How dar'st thou with that sullen luggage 
O' th' self, old ir'n, and other baggage. 
With which thy steed of bones and leather 
Has broke his wind in halting hither. 
How durst th', I say, adventure thus 695 

T' oppose thy lumber against us ? 
Could thine impertinence find out 
No work t' employ itself about, 
Where thou, secure from wooden blow, 
Thy busy vanity might'st show? too 

Was no dispute a-foot between 
The caterwauhng Bretheren ? 

V. 683, 684. It may be asked. ^Vlly Talgol was tlie first 
in answering the Knight, when it seems more incumbent upon 
the Bearward to make a defence? Probably Talgol might 
then be a Cavalier ; for the character the Poet has given him 
ioth not infer the contrary, and his answer carries strong 
indications to justify the conjecture. 

V. 694. Vor. ' Is lam'd, and tir'd in halting hither.' 



PAKT I. CANTO II. 73 

No subtle question rais'd among 
Those out-o'-tlieir wits and those i' th' wrong ? 
No prize between those combatants 705 

O' th' times, the land and water saints, 
Where thou might'st stickle, without hazard 
Of outrage to thy hide and mazzard, 
And not for want of bus'ness come 
To us to be thus troublesome, 710 

To interrupt our better sort 
Of disputants, and spoil our sport ? 
"Was there no felony, no bawd. 
Cut-purse, or burglary abroad ? 
No stolen pig, nor plunder'd goose, 715 

To tie thee up from breaking loose ? 
No ale unlicens'd, broken hedge. 
For which thou statute might'st allege, 
To keep thee busy from foul evil 
And shame due to thee from the devil ? 7^9 

Did no Committee sit, where he 
Might cut out journey-work for thee, 
And set th' a task, with subornation. 
To stitch up sale and sequestration ; 
To cheat, with holiness and zeal, 725 

VU parties and the commonweal ? 
Much better had it been for thee 
Be 'ad kept thee where th' art us'd to be, 
Or sent th' on bus'ness any whither. 
So he had never brought thee hither : ito 

But if th' hast brain enough in scull 

VOL. I. 9 



7 i HUDIBRAS. 

To keep itself in lodging whole, 
And not provoke the rage of stones 
And cudgels to thy liide and bones, 
Tremble, and vanish while thou may'st, vai 

Which I'll not promise if thou stay'st. 
At this the knight grew high in wroth, 
And, lifting hands and eyes up both. 
Three times he smote on stomach stout. 
From whence, at length, these words broke out : 
Was I for this entitled Sir, 741 

And girt with trusty sword and spur, 
For fame and honour to wage battle, 
Thus to be brav'd by foe to cattle ? 
Not all that pride that makes thee swell 74i 

As big as thou dost blown-up veal ; 
Nor all thy tricks and sleights to cheat, 
And sell thy carrion for good meat; 
Nor all thy magic to repair 

Decay'd old age in tough lean ware, 760 

Make nat'ral death appear thy work, 

V. 732. Var. ' To keep within its lodging.' 

V. 741. Hndibras shewed less patience upon this than Don 
Quixote did upon a Uke occasion, where he calmly distin 
finishes betwixt an affront and an injury. The Knight is irri- 
tated at the satirical answer of Talgol, and vents his rage in a 
(nanner exnctly suited to his character; and when his passion 
was Avorked nj) to a height too gi-eat to be expressed in words, 
he immediMtely falls into action; but, alas! at this first en- 
ti'ance into it, he meets with an unlucky disappointment; an 
omejj that the success would be as indifferent as the cause ia 
which he was engaged. 

V. 751 Var. ' Turn death of nature to thy work.' 



PART I. CANTO II. 75 

A-iid Stop the gangrene in stale pork ; 

Not all the force that makes thee proud, 

Because by bullock ne'er withstood ; 

Though arm'd with all thy cleavers, knives, 7M 

And axes, made to hew down lives ; 

Shall save or help thee to evade 

The hand of Justice, or this blade, 

Wliich I, her sword-bearer, do carry, 

For civil deed and military. 76o 

Nor shall these words of venom base. 

Which thou hast from their native place, 

Thy stomach, pump'd to fling on me, 

Go unreveng'd, though I am free ; 

Thou down the same throat shalt devour 'em, 766 

Like tainted beef, and pay dear for 'em : 

Nor shall it e'er be said that wight 

W 1th gauntlet blue and bases white. 

And round blunt truncheon by his side, 

So great a man at arms defy'd 770 

With words far bitterer than wormwood. 

That would in Job or Grizel stir mood. 

Dogs with their tongues their wounds do heal, 

But men with hands, as thou shalt feel. 

This said, with hasty rage he snatch'd 773 

His gui. -hot that in holsters watch'd. 
And, bending cock, he levell'd full 
Again&t th' outside of Talgol's scull. 
Vowing that he should ne'er stir further. 
Nor henceforth cow or bullock murther: 78o 



76 nuDiBUAS. 

But Pallas came in shape of Rust, 

And 'twixt the spring and hammer thrust 

Her Gorgon shield, which made the cock 

Stand stiff, as 'twere transform'd to stock. 

Meanwhile fierce Talgol, gath'ring might, 78i 

With rugged truncheon charg'd the Knight : 

But he, with petronel upheav'd 

Instead of shield, the blow receiv'd ; 

The gun recoil'd, as well it might, 

Not us'd to such a kind of fight, 79c 

And shrunk from its great master's gripe, 

Knock'd down and stunn'd with mortal stripe. 

Then Hudibras, with furious haste. 

Drew out his sword ; yet not so fast 

But Talgol first, with hardy thwack, 795 

V. 781-783. This, and another passage in tliis Canto, are 
the only places where Deities are introduced in tliis poem. 
As it was not mtended for an Epic Poem, consequently none 
)f the heroes in it needed supernatural assistance; how then 
jomes Pallas to be ushered in here, and Mars afterwards ? 
Probably to ridicule Homer and Virgil, wliose heroes scarce 
perform any action (even the most feasible) without the sen- 
sible aid of a Deity; and to manifest that it was not the want 
of abilities, but choice, that made our Poet avoid such sub- 
terfuges, he has given us a sample of his judgment in this 
way of writing in the passage before us, which, taken in its 
naked meaning, is only — that the Knight's pistol was, for want 
if use, grown so rusty, that it would not fire ; or, in other 
words, that the rust was the cause of his disappointment. 

V. 784. Var. ' Stand stiff, as if 'twere tuni'd t' a stock.' 

V. 786. Var. ' smote the Knight.' 

V. 787, 7S8. Var. ' And he 'v\ath rusty pistol held... 
To take the blow on Uke a sliiold.' 



rAllT 1. CANTO II. 77 

TA'ice bruis'd his head, and twice his back. 

But when liis nut-brown sword was out, 

With stomach huge he laid about, 

Imprinting many a wound upon 

His mortal foe, the truncheon : 800 

The trusty cudgel did oppose 

Itself against dead-doing blows, 

To guai'd his leader from fell bane. 

And then reveng'd itself again. 

And though the sword (some understood) sos 

In force had much the odds of wood, 

'Twas nothing so ; both sides were balanc't 

80 equal, none knew which was valiant'st : 

For wood, with honour b'ing engag'd. 

Is so implacably enrag'd, 810 

Though iron hew and mangle sore, 

Wood wounds and bruises honour more. 

And now both knights were out of breath, 

Tir'd in the hot pursuits of death, 

Whilst all the rest amaz'd stood still, sis 

Expecting which should take, or kill. 

This Hudibras observ'd ; and fretting 

Conquest should be so long a-getting. 

He drew up all his force into 

One body, and that into one blow : 8<M 

But Talgol wisely avoided it 

By cunning sleight ; for, had it hit, 

V. 797. Var. ' Biit when his rugged sword was out' 
V. 798. Var. ' Courageously he laid about,' 



18 HUDIBRAS. 

The upper part of him the blow 
Had slit, as sure as that below. 

Meanwhile th' incomparable Colon, 83« 

To aid his friend, began to fall on : 
Him Ralph encounter'd, and straight grew 
A dismal combat 'twixt them two ; 
Th' one arm'd with metal, th' other with wood, 
Tliis fit for bruise, and that for blood. 83C 

With many a stiff thwack, many a bang, 
Hard crab-tree and old iron rang. 
While none that saw them could divine 
To which side conquest would incline : 
Until Magnano, who did envy ns 

That two should with so many men vie, 
By subtle stratagem of brain 
Perform'd what force could ne'er attain; 
For he, by foul hap, having found 
Where thistles grew on barren ground, 840 

In haste he drew his weapon out, 
And, having cropt them from the root, 
He clapt them underneath the tail 
Of steed, with pricks as sharp as nail. 
The angry beast did straight resent 845 

The wrong done to his fundament. 
Began to kick, and fling, and wince, 

V. 825. Var. ' But now fierce Colon 'gan draw on, 

To aid the distress'd champion ; • 
V. 828. Var. '.A fierce dispute.' 
v. 844. Var. * Vrith prickles sharper than a nail-' 
V *46. Var. ' And feel regret on fundament.' 



PART I. CANTO II. 79 

As if h' had been beside his sense, 

Striving to disengage from thistle, 

That gall'd him sorely under his tail ; 850 

Instead of which, lie threw the pack 

Of Squire and baggage from his back. 

And blund'ring still, with smarting rump. 

He gave the Knight's steed such a thump 

As made him reel. The Knight did stoop, 858 

And sat on further side aslope. 

This Talgol viewing, who had now 

By sleight escap'd the fatal blow. 

He rally'd, and again fell to 't ; 

For catching foe by nearer foot, 860 

He lifted with such might and strength 

As would have hurl'd him thrice his length, 

And dash'd his brains (if any) out : 

But Mars, that still protects the stout. 

In pudding-time came to his aid, 8«* 

And under him the Bear convey'd. 

The Bear, upon whose soft fur-gown 

V. 855. Var. * That stagger'd him.' 

V. 864, 865. I would here observe the judgment of the 
Poet: Mars is introduced to the Knight's advantage, as Pallas 
had been before to his disappointment. It was reasonable 
that the God of War should come in to his assistance, since 
a goddess had interested herself on the side of his enemies 
(agreeably to Homer and Virgil,. Had the Knight directly 
fallen to the ground, he had been probably disabled from 
uture action, and consequently the battle would too soon 
have been determined. Besides, we may observe a beau- 
tiful gradation to the honour of the hero: he lalls upon 
the Bear, the Bear breaks h-os--, and the spectators run; so 



80 IIUDIBRAS. 

The Kniglit with all his weight fell down. 

The friendiy rug preserv'd the ground, 

And headlong Knight, from bruise or wound; 87fl 

Like feather-bed betwixt a wall 

And heavy brunt of cannon-ball. 

As Sancho on a blanket fell. 

And had no hurt, ours far'd as well 

In body, though his mighty spirit, 87a 

B'ing heavy, did not so well bear it. 

The Bear was in a greater fright, 

Beat do\vn and worsted by the Knight ; 

He roar'd, and rag'd, and flung about, 

To shake off bondage from his snout : sso 

His wrath inflam'd, boil'd o'er, and from 

His jaws of death he threw the foam ; 

Fury in stranger postures threw him, 

And more than ever herald drew him. 

He tore the earth, which he had sav'd sss 

From squelch of Knight, and storm'd and rav'd, 

And vex'd the more because the harms 

He felt were 'gainst the law of arms : 

For men he always took to be 

His friends, and dogs the enemy ; S95 

Who never so much hurt had done him, 

As his own side did falling on him^ 

It griev'd him to the guts that they, 

For whom he 'ad fought so many a fray, 

\h:;t the Knight's fall is the primarj'- cause of tWs rout, anc' 
he might justly, as he afterwards did. ascribe the honour of 
the victory to himself. 



PART 1. CANTO II. 81 

And serv'd with loss of blood so long, esi 

Should offer such inhuman wrong ; 

Wrong of unsoldier-like condition, 

For which he flung down his commission, 

And laid about him, till his nose 

From thrall of ring and cord broke loose. 900 

Soon as he felt himself enlai'g'd, 

Through thickest of his foes he charg'd, 

And made way through tii' amazed crew ; 

Some he o'erran and some o'erthrew, 

But took none ; for by hasty flight 90a 

He strove t' escape pursuit of Knight, 

From whom he fled with as much haste 

And dread as he the rabble chas'd : 

In haste he fled, and so did they, 

Each and his fear a sev'ral way. gio 

Crowdero only kept the field, 
Not stirring from the place he held, 
Though beaten down, and wounded sore 
r th' Fiddle, and a leg that bore 
One side of him ; not that of bone, 915 

But much its better, th' wooden one. 
He spying Hudibras lie strow'd 
Upon the ground, like log of wood, 
"With fright of fall, supposed wound, 
And loss of urine, in a s wound, 9Sd 

In haste he snatch'd the wooden limb 



V. 90C. Var. ' avoid the conqu'i'ing Knight.' 
V. 920. Var. 'cast in swouncl.' 



82 HUDIBRAS. 

That hurt i' th' ankle lay by him, 

And, fitting it for sudden fight, 

Straight drew it up, t' attack the Knight ; 

For getting up on stump and huckle, »3» 

He with the foe began to buckle, 

Vowing to be reveng'd, for breach 

Of Crowd and shin, upon the wretch 

Sole author of all detriment 

He and his fiddle underwent. 980 

But Ralpho (who had now begun 
T' adventure resurrection 
From heavy squelch, and had got up 
Upon liis legs, with sprained crup). 
Looking about, beheld pernicion 9Sfl 

Approaching Knight from fell musician : 
He snatch'd his whinyard up, that fled 
When he was falling off his steed 
(As rats do from a falling house) 
To hide itself from rage of blows, 941 

And, wing'd with speed and fury, flew 
To rescue Knight from black and blue ; 
Which ere he could achieve, his sconce 
The leg encounter'd twice and once. 
And now 'twas rais'd to smite agen m 

Wh(m Ralpho thrust himself between ; 



V. 923. Var. ' And listing it.' 

V 924. Var. * to fall on Knignt.' 

V. 935, 936. Var. ' Looking about, beheld the Bard 

To charge the Knight entranc'd prepar'd 
V. 944. Var. ' The skin encounter'd,' &c. 



PART I. CANTO II. 83 

He took the blow upon his arm, 

To shield the Knight from further harm, 

And, joining wrath with force, bestow'd 

On th' wooden member such a load, 9M 

That down it fell, and with it bore 

Crowdero, whom it propp'd before. 

To him the Squire right nimbly run, 

And setting conqu'ring foot upon 

His trunk, thus spoke : What desp'rate frenzy 955 

Made thee (thou whelp of Sin) to fancy 

Thyself and all that coward rabble 

T' encounter us in battle able ? 

How durst th', I say, oppose thy Curship 

'Gainst arms, authority, and worship, 000 

And Hudibras or me j)rovoke, 

Though all thy limbs were heart of oak, 

And th' other half of thee as good 

To bear out blows as that of wood ? 

Could not the whipping-post prevail, ses 

With all its rhet'rick, nor the jail, 

To keep from flaying scourge thy skin. 

And ankle free from iron gin ? 

Which now thou shalt — but first our care 

Must see how Hudibras does fare. 970 

This said, he gently rais'd the Knight, 

And set him on his bum upright. 

To rouse him from lethargic dump, 

V. 947. Var. ' on side and arm.' 

V. 948. Var. ' \o shield the Knight entranc'd from harm.' 



34 HUDIBRAS. 

He tweak'd his nose, with gentle thump 

Knock'd on his breast, as if't had been 975 

To raise the spirits lodg'd within: 

They, waken'd with the noise, did fly 

From inward room to window eye, 

And gently op'ning lid, the casement, 

Look'd out, but yet with some amazement. 98C 

This gladded Ralpho much to see. 

Who thus bespoke the Knight. Quoth he, 

Tweaking his nose. You are, great Sir, 

A self-denying conqueror ; 

As high, victorious, and great, 988 

As e'er fought for the Churches yet. 

If you will give yourself but leave 

To make out what y' already have ; 

That's victory.- The foe, for dread 

Of your nine-wortliiness, is fled, 990 

All save Crowdero, for whose sake 

You did th' espous'd Cause undertake ; 

And he lies pris'ner at your feet, 

To be dispos'd as you think meet, 

Either for life, or death, or sale, 996 

The gallows, or perpetual jail : 

For one wink of your pow'rful eye 

Must sentence him to live or die. 

His Fiddle is your proper purchase, 

Won in the service of the Churches ; looi 

'Vnd by your doom must be allow'd 

To be, or be no more, a Crowd : 

For thouirh success did not confer 



PART I. CANTO IT. O^ 

Just title uii the conqueror ; 

Though dispensations were not strong rK»« 

Conchisions wliether right or wrong ; 

Ahhough Outgoings did confirm, 

And Owning were but a mere term ; 

Yet as the wicked have no right 

To th' creature, though usurp'd bj might, loio 

Tlie property is in the Saint, 

From whom th' injuriously detain 't : 

Of him they hold their luxuries, 

Their dogs, their horses, whores, and dice, 

Their riots, revels, masks, delights, lois 

Pimps, buffoons, fiddlers, parasites ; 

All which the Saints have title to, 

And ought t' enjoy, if th' had their due. 

What we take from 'em is no more 

Than what was ours by right before : 1020 

For we are their true landlords stiU, 

And they our tenants but at will. 

At this the Knight began to rouse, 

And by degrees grow valorous : 

He star'd about, and seeing none 1025 

Of all his foes remain but one. 

He snatch'd his weapon that lay near him, 



V. 1 009. It was a principle maintained by the Rebels of 
tliose days, that dominion is founded on gi'ace ; and therefore 
if a man wanted grace (in their opinion), if he was not a 
»aint or a goiUy man, he had no right t" uny lands, goods, or 
chattels. The saints, as the Squire says, had a right to all, 
find vnight t;'.ke it, \die!'evei- tiiev ha,d a power to do it. 



8G HUDIBRAS. 

And from the ground began to rear him, 

Vowing to make Crowdero pay 

For all the rest that ran away. iom 

But Ralpho now, in colder blood, 

His fury mildly thus withstood : 

Great Sir, quoth he, your mighty spirit 

Is rais'd too high ; this slave does merit 

To be the hangman's bus'ness sooner losi 

Than from your hand to have the honour 

Of his destruction ; I that am 

A Nothingness in deed and name, 

Did scorn to hurt liis forfeit carcase, 

Or ill entreat his Fiddle or case : lOM 

Will you, great Sir, that glory blot 

In cold blood, which you gain'd in hot ? 

"Will you employ your conqu'ring sword 

To break a fiddle, and your word ? 

For though I fought and overcame, ion 

And quarter gave, 'twas in your name : 

For great commanders always own 

What's prosp'rous by the soldier done. 

To save, where you have pow'r to kill, 

Argues your pow'r above your will ; los 

And that your will and pow'r have less 

Than both might have of selfishness. 

This pow'r, which now alive, with dread 

He trembles at, if he were dead 

Would no more keep the slave in awe, iom 

Than if you were a Knight of straw ; 

For Death would then be his conqueror. 



PART I. CANTO 1 87 

Not you, and free him from that terror. 

If danger from his life accrue, 

Or honour from his death, to you, 106O 

'Twere policy and honour too 

To do as you resolv'd to do : 

But, Sir, 'twould wrong your valour much, 

To say it needs or fears a crutch. 

Great conqu'rors greater glory gain io65 

By foes in triumph led, than slain : 

The laurels that adorn their brows 

Are pull'd from living, not dead boughs, 

And living foes : the greatest fame 

Of cripple slain can be but lame ; 1070 

One half of him 's already slain. 

The other is not worth your pain ; 

Th' honour can but on one side light. 

As worship did, when y' were dubb'd Knight ; 

Wherefore I think it better far 1076 

To keej) him prisoner of war, 

And let him fast in bonds abide, 

At court of justice to be try'd ; 

Where if h' appear so bold or crafty 

There may be danger in his safety, loeo 

If any member there dislike 

His face, or to his beard have pique, 

Or if his death will save or yield, 

Revenge or fright, it is reveal'd ; 

V. 1084. When the Rebels had takon a prisoner, though 
they gave liim qimrter, and promised to save his life, yet if 
any of them afterwards thought it not proper that he should 



SB HUDIBRAS. 

Though he has quarter, ne'ertheless 

Y' have pow'r to hang him when you please 

This has been often done by some 

Of our great conqu'rors, you know whom ; 

And has by most of us been held 

Wise justice, and to some reveal'd : io90 

For words and promises, that yoke 

The conqueror, are quickly broke ; 

Like Samson's cuffs, though by his own 

Direction and advice put on. 

For if we should fight for the Cause i095 

By rules of military laws, 

And only do what they call just, 

The Cause would quickly fall to dust. 

This we among ourselves may speak ; 

But to the wicked or the weak iioo 

We must be cautious to declare 

Perfection-truths, such as these are. 

This said, the high outrageous mettle 
Of Knight began to cool and settle. 
He lik'd the Squire's advice, and soon iios 

Kesolv'd to see the bus'ness done ; 
And therefore charg'd him first to bind 

be saved, it was only saying it was revealed to him that such 
a one should die, and they hanged him up, notwithstanding 
the promises before made. Dr. South observes of Han-ison 
the Regicide, a butcher by profession, and preacliing Colonel 
in the Parliament army, " That he was notable for having 
killed several after quarter given by others, using these words 
in doing it: ' Cursed be lie ^viio doth the work of the Lord 
negligently.' " 



I'AIIT I. CANTO ir. S\f 

Crowds ro's jiaiids on rump behind, 

And to its former place and use 

The wooden member to reduce ; mo 

But force it take an oath before, 

Ne'er to bear arms against him more. 

Ralpho dispatch'd with speedy haste. 
And, having ty'd Crowdero fast. 
He gave Sir Knight the end of cord, me 

To lead the captive of his sword 
In triumpii, whilst the steeds he caught, 
And them to further s(;rvioe brouf^ht. 

o 

The Squire in state rode on before, 

A]id on his nut-brown wliinyard bore 1130 

The trophy Fiddle and the case, 

Leaning on shoulder hke a mace. 

The Knight himself did after ride. 

Leading Crowdero by his side ; 

And tow'd him if he lagg'd behind, 1125 

Like boat against the tide and wind. 

Thus grave and solemn they march on, 

Until quite through the town they 'ad gone, 

At further end of which there stands 

An ancient castle, that commands nao 

Th' adjacent parts ; in all the fabric 

You shall not see one stone nor a brick, 

V. 1122. Var. ' PlacVl on \ is shoulder.' 

V. 1130. This is an enigmatical description of a pair of 
stocks and a whipping-post; it is so pompous and sublime, 
that we are surp"ised so 110/ le astiucturecuuld be raised iVom 
so ludicrous a subject. 

VOL. I. 10 



00 HUDIBRAS. 

But all of wood, by pow'rful spell 

Of magic made impregnable : 

There's neither iron-bar nor gate, ii35 

Portcullis, chain, nor bolt, nor grate, 

And yet men durance there abide. 

In dungeon scarce three inches wide : 

With roof so low, that under it 

They never stand, but lie or sit ; iiic 

And yet so foul, that whoso is in 

Is to the middle-leg in prison ; 

In circle magical confin'd 

With walls of subtle air and wind. 

Which none are able to break thorough ii4« 

Until they're freed by head of borough. 

Thither arriv'd, th' advent'rous Knight 

And bold Squire from their steeds alight 

At th' outward wall, near which there stands 

A Bastile, built t' imprison hands ; iisc 

By strange enchantment made to fetter 

The lesser parts, and free the greater. 

For though the body may creep through, 

The hands in grate are fast enough ; 

And when a circle 'bout the wrist iisa 

Is made by beadle exorcist. 

The body feels the spur and switch, 

As if 'twere ridden post by witch 

At twenty miles an hour pace, 

And yet ne'er stirs out of the place. Ti^ 

On top of this there is a spire. 

On which Sir Knight first bids the Squire 



rAP.T 1. CANTO II. 91 

The Fiddle, and its spoils, the case. 

In manner of a trophy place ; 

That done, they ope the trap-door gate, ii65 

And let Cn wdero down thereat. 

Crowdero making doleful face, 

Like hermit poor in pensive place, 

To dungeon they the wretch commit, 

And the survivor of his feet; ii70 

But th' other that had broke the peace, 

And head of Knighthood, they release, 

Though a delinquent false and forged, 

Yet b'ing a stranger he's enlarged. 

While his comrade, that did no hurt, 1175 

Is clapp'd up fast in prison for't : 

So justice, while she winks at crimes, 

Stumbles on innocence sometimes. 



92 HUDIBRAS. 



PART I. CANTO III. 

THE ARGUMENT. 

The scatter' d rout return and rally, 
Surround the place : the Knight does sallj", 
And is made pris'ner: then they seize 
Th' enchanted fort by storm, release 
Crowdero, and put the Squire in 's place; 
I should have first said Hudibras. 

Ay me ! what perils do environ 

The man that meddles with cold iron ! 

What plaguy mischiefs and mishaps 

Do dog him still with after-claps ! 

For though Dame Fortune seem to smile, t 

And leer upon him for a while, 

She'll after shew him, in the nick 

Of all his glories, a dog-trick. 

This any man may sing or say 

I' th' ditty caU'd, What if a Day? le 

¥ov Hudibras, who thought he 'ad won 

The field, as certain as a gun, 

And having routed the whole troop, 

With victory was cock-a-hoop, 

Thinking he 'ad done enough to purchase u 

Thanksgiving-day among the Churches, 

Wherein his mettle and brave worth 

Might be explain'd by holder-forth 



I'ART I. CANTO III. 93 

And register'd by fame eternal 

In deathless pages of Dimrnal, so 

Found in few minutes, tc his cost, 

He did but count without his host, 

And that a turnstile is more certain 

Than, in events of war. Dame Fortune. 

For now the late faint-hearted rout, ss 

O'erthrown and scatter'd ro md about, 
Chas'd by the horror of their fear 
From bloody fray of Knight and Bear 
(All but the Dogs, who in pursuit 
Of the Knight's victory stood to *t, to 

And most ignobly fought to get 
The honour of his blood and sweat), 
Seeing the coast was free and clear 
O' the conquer'd and the conquero'^ 
Took heart again, and fac'd about u 

As if they meant to stand it out: 
For by this time the routed Bear, 
Attack'd by th' enemy i' tli' rear. 
Finding their number grew too great 
For him to make a safe retreat, 40 

Like a bold chieftain fac'd about; 
But wisely doubting to hold out. 
Gave way to fortune, and with haste 
Fac'd the proud foe, and fled, and fac'd, 
Retiring still, until he found u 

V. 35. Var. ' Took heart of gi'ace.* 

V. 37. Var. ' For now the ljalf-defeate(f Bear.* 



94 nUDIBRAS. 

He 'ad got the advantage of the ground, 

And then as val'antly made head 

To check the foe, and forthwith fled, 

Leaving no art untry'd, nor trick 

Of warrior stout and poUtiCj so 

Until, in s})ite of hot pursuit, 

He gain'd a pass, to hold dispute 

On better terms, and stop the course 

Of the proud foe. With all his force 

He bravely charg'd, and for a while 55 

Forc'd their whole body to recoil ; 

But stiU th(;ir numbers so increas'd. 

He found himself at length oppress'd. 

And all evasions so uncertain^ 

To save himself for better fortune, «o 

That he resolv'd, rather than yield, 

To die with honour in the field. 

And sell his hide and carcase at 

A price as high and desperate 

As e'er he could. This resolution ea 

He forthwith put in execution. 

And bravely threw himself among 

The enemy, i' th' greatest throng : 

But what could single valour do 

Against so numerous a foe ? ?• 

Yet much he did, indeed too much 

To be believ'd, where th' odds were such ; 

But one against a multitude, 

Is more than mortal can make good : 

For while one party he oppos'd, ia 



PART I. CANTO IIL 95 

His rear whs riuddenly inclos'd, 

And no room left him for retreat 

Or fight against a foe so great. 

For now the Mastives, charging home, 

To blows and handy -gripes were come ; so 

While manfully himself he bore, 

And setting his right foot before, 

He rais'd himself, to shew how tall 

His person was above them all. 

This equal shame and envy stirr'd 85 

In tb' enemy, that one should beard 

So many warriors, and so stout, 

As he had done, and stav'd it out, 

Disdaining to lay down his arms, 

And yield on honourable terms. M 

Enraged thus, some in the rear 

Attack'd him, and some ev'ry where, 

Till down he fell ; yet falling fought, 

And, being down, still laid about: 

As Widdrington, in doleful dumps, n 

Is said to fight upon his stumps. 

But all, alas ! had been in vam, 
And he inevitably slain. 
If TruUa and Cerdon in the nick 
To rescue him had not been quick : loo 

For Trulla, who was light of foot 
As shafts which long-field Parthians shoot 

V. 102. • As shafts which long-field Parthians shoot.' Mr. 
Warburton is of opinion that ' long-filed' would be more pro- 
ner; as the Parti jan.s were rfuit^ed 'n long files, a disposition 



96 HUDIBRAS. 

(But not so light as to be borne 

Upon the ears of standing corn, 

Or trip it o'er the water quicker los 

Than witches when their staves they Houor, 

As some report), was got among 

The foremost of the martial throng. 

There pitying the vanquish'd Bear, 

She call'd to Cerdon, who rtood n<iar, no 

Viewing the bloody fight ; to whom. 

Shall we (quoth she) stand still hum-c\ im, 

And see stout Bruin, all alone. 

By numbers basely overthrown? 

Such feats already he 'as achiev'd iic 

In story not to be believ'd. 

And 'twould to us be shame enough 

Not to attempt to fetch him off. 

I would (quoth he) venture a limb 

To second thee, and rescue him ; - iso 

But then we must about it straight, 

Or else our aid will come too late : 

Quarter he scorns, he is so stout, 

And therefore cannot long hold out 

This said, they wav'd their weapon \ lound 12a 

About their heads to clear the grou d, 

proper for their manner of fighting, which was hy sudden 
retreats and sudden charges. Mr. Smith of Harleston, in 
Norfolk, thinks that the following alteration of the line would 
ye an improvement : 

' As long-field shafts, which Partliians shoot.' 
* Long-field Partliians ' is nght, i. e. Parthians who shod 
fifom a distnnvo. Ki). 



PARI I. CANTO 111. 97 

A.iid joining forces, laid about 
So fiercely, that th' amaz'd rout 
Turn'd tail again, and straight begun, 
As if the devil drove, to run. I30 

Meanwhile th' approach'd the place where Bruin 
Was now engag'd to mortal ruin : 
The conqu'ring foe they soon assail'd, 
First TruUa stav'd, and Cerdon tail'd, 
Until their Mastives loos'd their hold ; »• 

And yet, alas ! do what they could, 
The worsted Bear came off with store 
Of bloody wounds, but all before. 
For as Achilles, dipt in pond. 
Was anabaptiz'd free from wound, 140 

Made proof against dead-douag steel 
All over, but the Pagan heel ; 
So did our champion's arms defend 
All of him but the other end. 
His head and ears, which in the martial 14s 

Encounter lost a leathern parcel. 
For as an Austrian archduke once 
Had one ear (which in ducatoons 
Is half the coin) in battle par'd 
Close to his head, so Bruin far'd ; im 

But tugg'd and pull'd on th' other side 
Like scriv'ner newly crucify'd. 
Or like the late corrected leathern 
Ears of the circumcised brethren- 
Hut gentle Trulla into th' ring IM 
He wore in 's nose convey'd a string, 



98 HUDIBRA9. 

With which she march'd before, and led 

The warrior to a grassy bed, 

As authors write, in a cool shade 

Which eglantine and roses made, iM 

Close by a softly murm'ring stream, 

Where lovers us'd to loll and dream : 

TJiere leaving him to his repose, 

Secured from pursuit of foes. 

And wanting nothing but a song isi 

And a well-tun'd theorbo hung 

Upon a bough, to ease the pain 

His tugg'd ears sufFer'd, with a strain, 

They both drew up, to march in quest 

Of his great leader and the rest. it* 

For Orsin (who was more renown'd 
For stout maintaining of his ground, 
In standing fight, than for pursuit, 
As being not so quick of foot) 
Was not long able to keep pace iTi 

With others that pursu'd the chace, 
But found himself left far behind. 
Both out of heart and out of wind. 
Griev'd to behold his Bear pursued 
So basely by a multitude, IM 

And like to fall, not by the prowess, 
But numbers, of his coward foes. 
He raji^M. and kept as heavy a coil as 
Stout Hercules for loss of Hylas, 
Forcing tlie valleys to repeat les 

The accents of his sad regret : 



PART I. CANTO III. 99 

He beat his breast and tore his hair, 

For loss of his dear crony Bear, 

That Echo, from the hollow ground, 

His doleful wailings did resound i90 

More wistfully, by many times, 

That in small poets' splayfoot rhymes, 

That make her, in their ruthful stories. 

To answer to int'rrogatories. 

And most unconscionably depose I9fi 

To things of which she nothing knows; 

And when she has said all she can say, 

'Tis wrested to the lover's fancy. 

Quoth he, O whither, wicked Bruin ! 

Art thou fled to my — : Echo, Ruin. 200 

X thought th' hadst scom'd to budge a step 

For fear : quoth Echo, Marry guep. 

Am not I here to take thy part ? 

Then what has quail'd thy stubborn heart ? 

Have these bones rattled, and this head aos 

So often in thy quarrel bled ? 

Nor did I ever winch or grudge it 

For thy dear sake : Quoth she, Mum budget. 

Think'st thou 'twill not be laid i' th' dish 

Thou tum'dst thy back ? Quoth Echo, Pish, sia 

To run from those th' hadst overcome 

V. 189, 190. This passage is beautiful, not only as it ia a 
moving lamentation, and evidences cur Poet to be master of 
the pathetic as well as the sublime style, but also as it com- 
prehends a fine satire upon that false kind of wit of making 
an echo talk sensibly, and give rational answers. 



iOO 



HUDIBRAS. 



Thus coAvardly ? Quoth, Echo, Mum. 

But what a vengeance makes thee fly 

From me too, as thine enemy ? 

Or, if thou hast no thought of me, 2if 

Nor what I have endured for thee, 

Yet shame and honour might prevail 

To keep thee thus from turning tail : 

For who would grutch to spend his blood in 

His honour's cause ? Quoth she, A puddin. . 220 

This said, his grief to anger turn'd, 

Which in his manly stomach burn'd ; 

Thirst of revenge, and wrath, in place 

Of sorrow, now began to blaze : 

He vow'd the authors of his woe ssi 

Should equal vengeance undergo, 

And with their bones and flesh pay dear 

For what he suffer'd, and his Bear. 

This being resolv'd, with equal speed 

And rage he hasted to proceed 934 

To action straight, and, giving o'er 

To search for Bruin any more. 

He went in quest of Hudibras, 

To find him out where'er he was ; 

And, if he were above ground, vow'd asfi 

He'd ferret him, lurk where he would. 

But scarce had he a furlong on 
This resolute adventure gone, 
When he encounter'd with that crew 
Whom Hudibras did late subdue. 21c 

Honour, revenge, contempt, and shame, 



TART J. CAjSTO III. iOl 

Did equally tli<?ir breasts inflame. 

'Moiig these the fierce Magnaiio was, - 

And Talgol, foe to Hudibras, 

Cerdon and Colon, warriors stout 245 

And resolute, as e\er fought ; 

Whom furious Orsin thus bespoke : 

Shall we (quoth he) ihus basely brook 
The vile affront that paltry ass. 
And feeble scoundrel, Hudibras, 250 

With that more paltry ragamuffin, 
Ralpho, with vapouring and huffing, 
Have put upon us, like tame cattle, 
As if th' had routed us in battle ? 
For my part, it shall ne'er be said 255 

I for the washing gave my head : 
Nor did I turn my back for fear 
O' th' rascals, but loss of my Bear, 
Which now I'm Uke to undergo ; 
For whether these fell wounds, or no, 260 

He has receiv'd in fight, are mortal, 
Is more than all my skill can foretell ; 
Nor do I know what is become 
Of him, more than the Pope of Rome. 
But if I can but find them out 265 

That caus'd it (as I shall, no doubt, 
Where'er th' in hugger-mugger lurk) 
I'll make them rue their handiwork. 
And wish that they had rather dar'd 

V. 258. Var. ' Of them, biit losing of ray Bear.' 



102 nUDIBRAS. 

To pull the devil by the beard. «?< 

Quoth Cerdon, Noble Orsin, th' hast 

Great reason to do as thou say'st, 

And so has ev'ry body here, 

As well as thou hast, or thy Bear : 

Others may do as they see good ; vti 

But if this twig be made of wood 

That will hold tack, I'll make the fur 

Fly 'bout the ears of that old cur, 

And th' other mungrel vermin, Ralph, 

That brav'd us all in his behalf. aeo 

Thy Bear is safe and out of peril. 

Though lugg'd indeed and wounded very ill ; 

Myself and Trulla made a shift 

To help him out at a dead lift. 

And having brought him bravely off, ssf 

Have left him where he's safe enough : 

There let him rest ; for if we stay, 

The slaves may hap to get away. 
This said, they all engag'd to join 

Their forces in the same design, ioo 

And forthwith put themselves in search 

Of Hudibras upon their march : 

Where leave we them awhile, to tell 

What the victorious Knight befell ; 

For such, Crowdero being fast 295 

In dungeon shut, we left him last. 

Triumphant laurels seem'd to grow 

No-where so green as on his brow, 

Laden with which, as well as tir'd 



PART I. CANTO III. 103 

With conqu'ring toil, he now retir'd soft 

Unto a neighb'ring castle bj, 

To rest his body, and apply 

Fit med'cines to each glorious bruise 

He got in fight, reds, blacks, and blues ; 

To mollify th' uneasy pang 305 

Of ev'ry honourable bang ; 

Which b'ing by skilful midwife drest, 

He laid him down to take his rest. 

But all in vain : h' had got a hurt, 
O' th' inside, of a deadlier sort, sio 

By Cupid made, who took his stand 
Upon a widow's jointure-land 
CFor he, in all his am'rous battles. 
No 'dvantage finds like goods and chattels), 
Drew home his bow, and, aiming right, sis 

Let fly an arrow at the Knight. 
The shaft against a I'ib did glance, 
And gall him in the purtenance ; 
But time had somewhat 'swag'd his pain. 
After he found his suit in vain ; • 320 

For that proud dame, for whom his soul 
Was burnt in 's belly like a coal, 
(That belly that so oft did ake 
And suffer griping for her sake, 
Till purging comfits and ants* eggs sss 

Had almost brought him off his legs), 



V. 315, 316. Var. ' As 'inw he did, and aiming right, 
All arrow lio " >t fly at Knidit.' 



104 HuDinUAS. 

Us'd liim so like a base rascallion 

That old Pyg — (what d' ye call him) — malion, 

Tliat cut his mistress out of stone, 

Plad not so hard a hearted one. sso 

She had a thousand jadish tricks, 

Worse than a mule that flings and kicks ; 

'Mong which one cross-grain'd freak she had, 

As insolent as strange and mad : 

She could love none but only such 838 

As scorn'd and hated her as much. 

'Twas a strange riddle of a lady ; 

Not love, if any lov'd her : hey-day ! 

So cowards never use their might 

But against such as will not fight ; 84C 

So some diseases have been found 

Only to seize upon the sound. 

He that gets her by heart must say her 

The back way, like a witch's prayer. 

IMeanwhile the Knight had no small task 84fi 

To compass what he durst not ask : 

He loves, but dares not make the motion ; 

Her ignorance is his devotion : 

Like caitiff vile, that for misdeed 

Rides with his face to rump of steed, 8» 

Or rowing scull, he's fain to love ; 

Look one way, and another move : 

Or like a tumbler that does play 

His game, and look another way 

V. 338. Var. 'Ha-dayl' 



PART I. CAJsTO III. lOo 

Until ho seize upon the coney ; 355 

.Tnst so does he by matrimony. 

But all in vain ; her subtle snout 

Did quickly wind his meaning out, 

Which she return'd with too much scorn 

To be by man of honour borne : 360 

Yet much he bore, until the distress 

Vie suffer'd from his spiglitful mistress 

Did stir his stomach, and the pain 

He had endur'd from her disdain 

Turn'd to regret so resolute sm 

That he resolv'd to wave his suit, 

And either to renounce her quite 

Or for a while play least in sight. 

This resolution b'ing put on. 

He kept some months, and more had done, 370 

But being brought so nigh by Fate, 

The vict'ry he achiev'd so late 

Did set his thoughts agog, and ope 

A door to discontinu'd hope, 

That seem'd to promise he might win 876 

His dame too, now his hand was in ; 

And that his valour, and the honour 

H' had newly gain'd, might work upon her. 

These reasons made his mouth to water 

With am'rouf, longings to be at her : 38o 

Quoth he, unto himself. Who knows 

But tL^s brave conquest o'er my foes 

May reach her heart, and make that stoop, 

A.S I but. now have forc'd the troop ? 

VOL.. I. 11 



106 HUDIBRAS. 

If nothing can oppugn love, 385 

And virtue invious ways can prove, 

What may not he confide to do 

That brings both love and virtue too? 

But thou bring'st valour too, and wit, 

Two things that seldom fail to hit. sm 

Valour's a mouse-trap, wit a gin, 

Which women oft are taken in : 

I'hen, Hudibras, why should'st thou fear 

To be, that art, a conqueror ? 

Fortune th' audacious doth. Juvare, SM 

But lets the timidous miscarry : 

Then, while the honour thou hast got 

Is spick and span new, piping-hot, 

Strike her up bravely thou hadst best, 

And trust thy fortune with the rest. 400 

Such thoughts as these the Knight did keep, 

ISIore than his bangs, or fleas, from sleep : 

And as an owl, that in a barn 

Sees a mouse creeping in the corn. 

Sits still, and shuts his round blue eyes 40€ 

As if he slept, until he spies 

The httle beast within his reach, 

Then starts, and seizes on the wretch ; 

So from his couch the Knight did start, 

Tc seize upon the widow's heart, 41c 

Crying, with hasty tone and hoarse, 

Ralpho, dispatch, to horse, to horse. 

And 'twas but time; for now the rout, 

We left engag'd to seek him out, 



PART 1. CANTO III. 107 

By speedy marches were advanc'd 4i6 

Up to the fort where he ensconc'd, 
And all th' avenues had possest 
About the place, from east to west. 

That done, awhile they made a halt 
Tj view the ground, and where t' assault 420 

Then call'd a council, which was best, 
Bj siege or onslaught, to invest 
The enemy ; and 'twas agreed 
By storm and onslaught to proceed. 
This b'ing resolv'd, in comely sort 4M 

They now drew up t'atta(;k the fort ; 
When Hudibras, about to enter 
Upon another-gates adventure, 
To Ralpho call'd aloud to arm, 
Not dreaming of approaching storm. 4S0 

Whether Dame Fortune, or the care 
Of angel bad, or tutelar, 
Did arm, or thrust him on a danger 
To which he was an utter stranger, 
That foresight might, or might not, blot am 

The glory he had newly got. 
Or to his shame it might be sed. 
They took him napping in his bed ; 
To them we leave it to expound 
That deal in sciences profound. 44ff 

H\s courser scarce he had bestrid, 
And Ralpho that on which he rid, 

V. 437. Var. ' Miarht b? said-' . 



108 HUDIBRA3. 

Vrh(;n, setting ope the postern gate, 

Which they thought best to sally at, 

The foe appear'd (Jrawn up and drill'd, ub 

Ready to charge them in the field. 

This somewhat startled the bold Knight, 

Surpris'd with th' unexpected sight : 

The bruises of his bones and flesh 

He thought began to smart afresh ; ak 

Till, recollecting wonted courage, 

His fear was soon converted to rage ; 

And thus he spoke : The coward foe. 

Whom we but now gave quarter to. 

Look, yonder's rally'd, and appears 455 

As if they had outrun their fears. 

The glory we did lately get, 

The Fates command us to repeat ; 

And to their wills we must succumb, 

Quocunque trahunt, 'tis our doom. 4^ 

This is the same numeric crew 

Which we so lately did subdue ; 

The self-same individuals that 

Did I'un, as mice do from a cat, 

^Vlien we courageously did wield 4«s 

Our martial weapons in the field. 

To tug for victory : and when 

We shall our shining blades agen 

Brandish in terror o'er our heads. 

They'll straight resume their wonted dreads. 470 

\'. 444/ Var. ' To take the field, and ?ally at.' 



PART I. CAJs'TO III. 109 

Fear is an ague, that forsakes 

And haunts, by fits, those whom it takes; 

And they'll opine they feel the pain 

And blows they felt, to-day again. 

Then let us boldly charge them home, 47» 

And make no doubt to overcome. 

This said, his courage to inflame, 
He call'd upon his mistress' name; 
His pistol next he cock'd anew. 
And out his nut-brown whinyard drew, 480 

And, placing Ralpho in the front, 
Reserv'd himself to bear the brunt, 
As expert warriors use : then ply'd 
With iron heel his courser's side, 
Conveying sympathetic speed 48* 

From heel of Knight to heel of steed. 

Meanwhile the foe, with equal rage 
And speed, advancing to engage, 
Both parties now were drawn so close, 
Almost to come to handy-blows : ' 4M 

When Orsin first let fly a stone 
At Ralpho ; not so huge a one 
As that which Diomed did maul 
^neas on the bum withal, 

Yet big enough, if rightly hurl'd, ^y» 

T' have sent him to another world. 
Whether above ground or below, 
Which saints twice dipt are destin'd to. 

V. 472. Var. ' Haunts oy tuma.' 



110 HUDIBRAS. 

The danger startled the bold Squire, 

And made him some few steps retire ; soc 

But Hudibras advanc'd to 's aid, 

And rous'd his spirits half-dismay'd. 

He, wisely doubting lest the shot 

Of th' enemy, now growing hot, 

Might at a distance gall, press'd close Ms 

To come pell-mell to handy-blows. 

And that he might their aim decline 

Advanc'd still in an oblique line; 

But prudently forbore to fire. 

Till breast to breast he had got nigher, 6io 

As expert warriors use to do 

"When hand to hand they charge their foe. 

This order the advent'rous Knight, 

Most soldier-like, observ'd in fight ; 

When Fortune (as she's wont) turn'd fickle, »!• 

And for the foe began to stickle : 

The more shame for her Goodyship, 

To give so near a friend the slip. 

For Colon, choosing out a stone, 

Levell'd so right, it thump'd upon mq 

His manly paunch with such a force 

As almost beat him off his horse. 

He loos'd his whinyard and the rein, 

But, laying fast hold on the mane, 

Preserv'd his seat : and as a goose au 



V. 523. Var. ' He loos'd his weapon ♦ — and, • He lost hip 

Vhinyard.* 



PART I. CANTO III. Ill 

In death conti*acts his talons close, 

So did the Knight, and with one claw 

The tricker of his pistol draw. 

The gun went off; and as it was 

Still fatal to stout Hudibras, uo 

In all his feats of arms, when least 

He dreamt of it, to prosper best, 

So now he far'd ; the shot, let fly 

At random 'mong the enemy, 

Pierc'd Talgol's gabardine, and grazing sss 

Upon his shoulder, in the passing 

Lodg'd in Magnano's brass habergeon. 

Who straight A surgeon, cry'd, A surgeon : 

He tumbled down, and, as he feU, 

Did Murder, Murder, Murder, yell. mo 

This startled their whole body so, 

That if the Knight had not let go 

His arms, but been in warlike plight, 

He'd won (the second time) the fight ; 

As, if the Squire had but fall'n on, m 

He had inevitably done. 

But he, diverted with the care 

Of Hudibras his hurt, forbare 

To press th' advantage of his fortune, 

While danger did the rest dishearten. sac 

V'or he with Cerdon b'ing engag'd 

V. 545 - 548. Var. ' As Ralpho might, but he with care 

Of Hudibras his hurt forbare.' 
V. 548. Var. ' Hudibras his wound.' 
V 651. Var. ' He had with Cerdon.' 



112 HUDIBRAS. 

In close encounter, they both wag'd 

The fight so well 'twas hard to say 

Which side was like to get the day. 

And now the busy work of Death IM 

Had tir'd them so, th' agreed to breathe, 

Preparing to renew the fight. 

When the disaster of the Knight, 

And th' other party, did divert 

Their fell intent, and forc'd them part. 9M 

Ralpho press'd up to Hudibras, 

And Cerdon where Magnano was, 

Each striving to confirm his party 

With stout encouragements and hearty. 

Quoth Ralpho, Courage, valiant Sir, stt 

And let revenge and honour stir 
Your spirits up ; once more fall on, 
The shatter'd foe begins to run ; 
For if but half so well you knew 
To use your vict'ry as subdue, «7( 

They durst not, after such a blow 
As you have given them, face us now, 
But from so formidable a soldier 
Had fled like crows when they smell powder. 
Thrice have they seen your sword aloft 57 » 

Wav'd o'er their heads, and fled as oft ; 
But if you let them recollect 
Their spirits, now dismay'd and checkt, 

V. 553. Var. ' So dcppenitely.' 

V 560. Var. ' And force tlieir sullen rage to part* 



PART I. CANTO HI. 113 

You'll have a harder game to play 

Than yet y' have had, to get the day. ^se 

Thus spoke the stout Squire, but was heard 
By Hudibras with small regard ; 
His thoughts were fuller of the bang 
He lately took, than Ralph's harangue : 
To which he answer'd. Cruel Fate 68£ 

Tells me thy counsel comes too late. 
The knotted blood within my hose, 
That from my wounded body flows, 
"With mortal crisis doth portend 
My days to appropinque an end. 590 

I am for action now unfit 
Either of fortitude or wit. 
Fortune, my foe, begins to frown, 
Rosolv'd to pull my stomach down. 
I am not apt upon a wound, 595 

Or trivial basting, to despond. 
Yet I'd be loth my days to curtal ; 
For if I thought ray M-^ounds not mortal, 
Or that w' had time enough as yet 
To make an honourable retreat, 600 

'Twere the best course : but if they find 
We fly, and leave our arms behind. 
For them to seize on, the dishonour 
And danger too is such, I'll sooner 
Stand to it boldly and take quarter, $o» 

To let them see I am nc starter. 

V. 587. Vnr. ' The clotted blwd.' 



114 HUDIBRAS. 

In all the trade of war no feat 

Is nobler than a brave retreat : 

I or those that run away and fly 

Take place at least o' th' enemy. eio 

This said, the Squire, with active speed, 
Dismounted from his bony steed, 
To seize the arms which, by mischance, 
Fell from the bold Knight in a trance : 
These being found out, and restor'd 6ifi 

To Hudibras, their nat'ral lord, 
As a man may say, with might and main 
He hasted to get up again. 
Thrice he essay'd to mount aloft, 
But by his weighty bum as oft S3« 

He was pull'd back, till, having found 
Th' advantage of the rising ground, 
Thither he led his warlike steed. 
And, having plac'd him right, with ppeed 
Prepar'd again to scale the beast ; eas 

When Orsin, who had newly drest 
The bloody scar upon the shoulder 
Of Talgol with Promethean powder, 
And now was searching for the shot 
That laid Magnano on the spot, esc 

Beheld the sturdy Squire aforesaid, 
Preparing to climb up his horse-side : 
He left his cure, and, laying hold 

V, 617. Var. * The active Squire, with m'ght and main. 
Prepar'd in haste to mount again.' 



PART I. CANTO III. 115 



LTpon his arms, with courage bold 
Cry'd out, 'Tis now no time to dally, 
The enemy begin to rally ; 
Let us that are unhurt and whole 
Fall on, and happy man be 's dole. 

This said, like to a thunderbolt 
He flew with fury to th' assault, 
Striving th' enemy to attack 
Before he reach'd his horse's back. 
Ralpho was mounted now, and gotten 
O'erthwart his beast with active vau'ting, 
Wriggling his body to recover 
His seat, and cast his right leg over : 
When Orsin, rushing in, bestow'd 
On horse and man so heavy a load, 
The beast was startled, and begun 
To kick and fling like mad, and run, 
Bearing the tough Squire hke a sack, 
Or stout King Richard, on his back ; 
Till stumbling, he threw him down. 
Sore bruis'd and cast into a swoon. 
Meanwhile the Knight began to rouse 
The sparkles of his wonted prowess : 
He thrust his hand into his hose. 
And found, both by his eyes and nose, 
Twas only choler, and not blood. 
That from his wounded body flcw'd. 
This, with the hazard of the Squire, 
Fflam'd him with despiteful ire: 
Courageously he fac'd about. 



u 



640 



64S 



6S0 



•M 



116 HUDTBRAS. 

And drew his other pistol out, 

And now had half-way bent the cock ; 665 

Wlien Cerdon gave so fierce a shock 

With sturdy truncheon, thwart his arm, 

That down it fell and did no harm ; 

Then, stoutly pressing on with speed, 

Assay'd to pull him off his steed. 670 

The Knight his sword had only left, 

With which he Cerdon's head had cleft, 

Or at the least cropp'd off a limb. 

But Orsin came, and rescu'd him. 

He with his lance attack'd the Knight ffit 

Upon his quarters opposite : 

But as a barque, that in foul weather, 

Toss'd by two adverse winds together, 

Is bruis'd and beaten to and fro. 

And knows not which to turn him to ; 686 

So far'd the Knight between two foes, 

And knew not which of them t' oppose : 

Till Orsin, charging with his lance 

At Hudibras, by spiteful chance 

Hit Cerdon such a bang, as stunn'd 681 

And laid him fiat upon the ground. 

At this the Knight began to cheer up. 

And, raising up himself on stirrup, 

Cry'd out, Victoria, lie thou there, 

And I shall straight dispatch another m 

To bear thee company in death ; 

But first I'll halt awhile, and breathe : 

As well he might ; for Orsin, griev'd 



PART I. CANTO 111. 117 

At til' wound that Cerclon had receiv'd, 

Ran to reHeve him with his lore, 695 

And cure the hurt he gave before. 

Meanwhile the Knight had wheel'd about 

To breathe himself, and next find out 

Th' advantage of the ground, where best 

He might the ruffled foe infest. 700 

This b'ing resolv'd, he spurr'd his steed, 

To run at Orsin with full speed, 

While he was busy in the care 

Of Cerdon's wound, and unaware ; 

But he was quick, and had ah'eady i06 

Unto the part apply'd remedy ; 

And seeing th' enemy prepar'd, 

Drew up and stood upon his guard. 

Then like a warrior right expert 

And skilful in the martial art, 710 

The subtle Knight straight made a halt, 

And judg'd it best to stay th' assault. 

Until he had reliev'd the Squire, 

And then (in order) to retire, 

Or, as occasion should invite, lis 

With forces join'd renew the iSght. 

Kaipho, by this time disentranc'd, 

Upon his bum himself advanc'd, 

Though sorely bruis'd ; his limbs all o'er 

With ruthless bangs were stiff and sore : 7Si 

Kight fain he would have got upon 

His feet again, to get him gone, 

When Hudibras to aid him came : 



118 HUDIBRAS. 

Quoth lie (and call'd him by his name), 
oourage, the day at length is ours, tu 

And we once more, as conquerors, 
Have both the field and honour won ; 
The foe is profligate and run : 
I mean all such as can, for some 
This hand hath sent to their long home ; 7S0 

And some lie sprawling on the ground, 
With many a gash and bloody wound. 
Caesar himself could never say 
He got two victories in a day 
As I have done, that can say, twice I 7S« 

In one day veni, vidi, vicL 
The foe's so numerous, that we 
Cannot so often vincere, 
And they perire, and yet enow 
Be left to strike an after-blow : 74« 

Then lest they rally, and once more 
Put us to fight the bus'ness o'er, 
Get up and mount thy steed ; dispatch, 
And let us both their motions watch. 

Quoth Ralph, I should not, if I were 74« 

In case for action, now be here ; 
Nor have I turn'd my back, or hang'd 
An arse, for fear of being bang'd. 
It was for you I got these harms, 
Advent'ring to fetch off your arms. t5 

The blows and drubs I have receiv'd 
Have bruis'd my body, and bereav'd 
"Mv limbs of strength: unless you stoop 



PART 1. CAKTO III. 319 

And reach your hands to pull me up, 

I shall lie here, and be a prey T65 

To those who now are run away. 

That thou shalt not (quoth Hudibras) : 
We read the ancients held it was 
More honourable far servare 
Givem than slay an adversary : ^so 

The one we oft to-day have done, 
The other shall dispatch anon ; 
And, though thou'rt of a diff'rent church, 
I will not leave thee in the lurch. 
This said, he jogg'd his good steed nigher, 76S 
And steer'd him gently t' wards the Squirt, 
Then, bowing down his body, stretch'd 
His hand out, and at Ralpho reach'd ; 
"When TruUa, whom he did not mind, 
Charg'd him like lightening behind. no 

She had been long in search about 
Magnano's wound, to find it out. 
But could find none, nor where the shot 
That had so startled him was got ; 
But, having found the worst was past, 775 

She fell to her own work at last. 
The pillage of the prisoners. 
Which in all feats of arms was hers : 
And now to plunder Ralph she flew, 
Wlien Hudibras his hard fate drew 7M 

To succour him ; for as he bow'd 
To help him up, she laid a load 
Of blows so heavy, and p^ac'd so well. 



120 nUDIBRAS. 

On til' other side, that down he fell. 

Yield, scoundrel base (quoth she), or die ; 78s 

Thy life is mine, and liberty : 

But if thou think'st I took thee tardy, 

And dar'st presume to be so hardy 

To try thy fortune o'er afresh, 

I'll wave my title to thy flesh, 790 

Thy arms and baggage, now my right, 

And, if thou hast the heart to try 't, 

I'll lend thee back thyself awhile, 

And once more, for that carcase vile, 

Fight upon tick. — Quoth Hudibras, 795 

Thou off'rest nobly, valiant lass. 

And I shall take thee at thy word : 

First let me rise and take my sword. 

That sword which has so oft this day 

Through squadrons of my foes made way, sm 

And some to other worlds dispatcht, 

Now, with a feeble spinster matcht, 

Will blush, with blood ignoble stain'd, 

By which no honour's to be gain'd. 

But if thou'lt taktt m' advice in this, feoa 

Consider, whilst thou may'st, what 'tis 

To interrupt a victor's course 

B' opposing such a trivial force : 

For if with conquest I come off 

(And that I shall do sure enough), sic 

Quarter thou canst not have nor grace, 

By law of arms, in such a case; 

Both which T now do offer freely. 



PART I. CANTO III. 121 

I scorn (quoth she), thou coxcomb silly 

(Clapping her hand upon her breech, 815 

To show how much she priz'd his speech), 

Quarter or counsel from a foe ; 

If thou canst force me to it, do : 

But lest it should again be said. 

When I have once more won thy head, gso 

I took thee napping, unprepar'd. 

Arm, and betake thee to thy guard. 

This said, she to her tackle fell, 
And on the Knight let fall a peal 
Of blows so fierce, and press'd so home, 825 

That he retir'd, and follow'd 's bum. 
Stand to't, quoth she, or yield to mercy ; 
It is not fighting arsie-versie 
Shall serve thy turn. — This stirr'd his spleen 
More than the danger he was in, 830 

The blows he felt or was to feel, 
Although th' already made him reel. 
Honour, despite, revenge, and shame. 
At once into his stomach came ; 
Which fir'd it so, he rais'd his arm sss 

Above his head and rain'd a storm 
Of blows so terrible and thick. 
As if he meant to hash her quick. 
But she upon her truncheor took them, 
And by oblique diversion broke them, tM 

Waiting an opportunity 
To pay all back with usury, 
Which long she fail'd not of; for now 

VOt, K 12 



1 22 HUDIBRAS. 

The Knight with one dead-doing blow 

Resolvmg to decide the fight, 84S 

And she with quick and cunnuig sleight 

Avoiding it, the force and weight 

He charg'd upon it was so great 

As almost sway'd him to the ground. 

No sooner she th' advantage found, 869 

But in she flew ; and, seconding 

With home-made thrust the heavy swing, 

She laid him flat upon his side. 

And, mounting on his trunk astride. 

Quoth she, I told thee what would come sss 

Of all thy vapouring, base scum : 

Say, will the law of arms allow 

I may have grace and quarter now ? 

Or wilt thou rather break thy word, 

And stain thine honour than thy sword ? 860 

A man of war to damn his soul. 

In basely breaking his parole ! 

And when before the fight th' hadst vow'd 

To give no quarter in cold blood ; 

Now thou hast got me for a Tartar, 865 

To make me 'gainst my will take quarter, 

Why dost not put me to the sword, 

But cowardly fly from thy word ? 

V. 857-866. Var. 
' Shall 1 have quarter now, you ruffin? 
Or wilt thou be worse than thy hnffing? 
Thou saidst th' would'st kill me, marry would' st thoay 
Why dost thou not, thou Jnck-n-nods thou ? ' 



PART I. CANTO III. ] 23 

Quoth Hudibras, The day's thine own *, 
Thou and thj stars have cast me down : 670 

My laurels are transplanted now, 
And flourish on thy conqu'ring brow : 
My loss of honour's great enough, 
Thou need'st not brand it with a scoff: 
Sarcasms may eclipse thine own, 876 

But cannot blur my lost renown : 
I am not now in Fortune's power ; 
He that is down can fall no lower. 
The ancient heroes were iUustr'ous 
For being benign, and not blustrous aso 

Against a vanquish'd foe : their swords 
Were sharp and trenchant, not their words ; 
And did in fight but cut work out 
T' employ their courtesies about. 

Quoth she, Although thou hast deserv'd, ess 
Base SlubberdeguUion, to be serVd 
As thou didst vow to deal with me 
If thou hadst got the victory. 
Yet I shall rather act a part 
That suits my fame than thy desert : «f ^ 

Thy arms, thy liberty, beside 
All that's on th' outside of thy hide, 
Are mine by military law. 
Of which I will not bate one straw ; 
The rest, thy life and limbs, once more ess 

Though doubly forfeit, I restore. 

Quoth Hudibras, It is too late 
For me to treat or stipulate ; 



124 HUDIBRAS. 

Wliat thou command'st I must obey ! 

Yet those whom I expugn'd to-day, 900 

Of thine own party, I let go. 

And gave them life and freedom too, 

Both Dogs and Bear, upon theu' parole, 

Whom I took pris'ners in this quarrel. 

Quoth Trulla, "WTiether thou or they 905 

Let one another run away, 

Concerns not me ; but was 't not thou 

That gave Crowdero quarter too ? 

Crowdero whom, in irons bound. 

Thou basely threw 'st mto Lob's pound, 91c 

Where still he lies, and with regret 

His gen'rous bowels rage and fret. 

But now thy carcase shall redeem, 

And serve to be exchang'd for him. 

This said, the Knight did straight submit 
And laid his weapons at her feet. 
Next he disrob'd his gabardine. 
And with it did himself resign. 
She took it, and forthwith divesting 
The mantle that she wore, said jesting, . 93c 
Take that and wear it for my sake ; 
Then threw it o'er his sturdy back. 
And as the French we conquer'd once 
Now give us laws for pantaloons. 
The length of breeches and the gathers, 9u 

Port-cannons, periwigs, and feathers ; 
Just so the proud insulting lass 
Array 'd and dighted Hudibras. 



PART I. CANTO III. 125 

Meanwhile the other champions, yerst 
In hurry of the fight disperst, oso 

Arriv'd, when Trulla won the day, 
To share i' th' honour and the prey, 
And out of Hudibras his liide 
With vengeance to be satisfy'd ; 
Wliich now they were about to pour ^m 

Upon him in a wooden show'r, 
But Trulla thrust herself between. 
And, striding o'er his back agen, 
She brandish'd o'er her head his sword, 
And vow'd they should not break her word : 940 
She 'ad given him quarter, and her blood, 
Or theirs, should make that quarter good ; 
For she was bound by law of arms 
To see him safe from further harms. 
In dungeon deep Crowdero, cast 945 

By Hudibras, as yet lay fast. 
Where, to the hard and ruthless stones, 
His great heart made perpetual moans ; 
Him she resolv'd that Hudibras 
Should ransom, and supply his place. m 

This stopp'd their fury, and the basting 
Which towards Hudibias was hasting; 
They thought it was bat just and right 
That what she had achiev'd in fight 
She should dispose of how she pleas'd ; ^55 

Crowdero ought to be releas'd. 
Nor could that any way be done 
Ho well as this she pitcli'd upon : 



126 HUDIBRAS. 

For who a better could imagine ? 

This therefore they resolv'd t' engage in. 900 

The Knight and Squire first they made 

Rise from the ground where they were laid, 

Then mounted both upon their horses, 

But with their faces to the arses. 

Orsin led Hudibras's beast, 960 

And Talgol that which Ralpho prest ; 

Whom stout Magnano, valiant Cerdon, 

And Colon, waited as a guard on ; 

All ush'ring TruUa in the rear, 

With th' arms of either prisoner. 970 

In this proud order and array 

They put themselves upon their way, 

Striving to reach th' enchanted Castle, 

Where stout Crowdero' in durance lay still. 

Thither with greater speed than shows 071 

And triumph over conquer'd foes 

Do use t' allow, or than the Bears, 

Or pageants borne before lord-mayors. 

Are wont to use, they soon arriv'd. 

In order soldier-like contriv'd, gsc 

Still marching in a warlike posture. 

As fit for battle as for muster. 

The Knight and Squire they first unhorse, 

And, bending 'gainst the fort their force. 

They all advanc'd, and round about wi 

Begirt the magical redoubt. 

Magnan' led up in this adventure, 

A.nd made way for llie rest to enter : 



PART I. CANTO III. 127 

For he was skilful in Black Art 

No less than he that built the fort, - 990 

And with an iron mace laid flat 

A breach, which straight all enter'd at, 

And in the wooden dungeon found 

Crowdero laid upon the ground : 

Him they release from durance base, 995 

Restor'd t' his Fiddle and his case. 

And Uberty, his thirsty rage 

With luscious vengeance to assuage : 

For he no sooner was at large, 

But TruUa straight brought on the charge, 1000 

And in the self-same Umbo put 

The Knight and Squire where he was shut ; 

Where leaving them in Hockley-i'-th'-hole, 

Their bangs and durance to condole, 

Confin'd and conjur'd into narrow 1005 

Enchanted mansion to know sorrow, 

In the same order and array 

Which they advanc'd, they march'd away. 

But Hudibras, who scorn'd to stoop 

To Fortune, or be said to droop, 1010 

Cheer'd up himself with ends of verse 

And sayings of philosophers. 

Quoth he, Th' one half of man, his mind. 
Is, sui juris, unconfin'd, 

^d cannot be laid by the heels, ioi« 

WTiatc'er the other moiety feels. 

V. 1003. Var. ' t' the wretched h::e.' 



1 28 HUDIBKAS. 

Tis not restraint or liberty 

That makes men prisoners or free ; 

But perturbations that possess 

The mind or equanimities. loso 

The whole world was not half so wide 

To Alexander, when he cry'd 

Because he had but one to subdue, 

As was a paltry narrow tub to 

Diogenes ; who is not said losc 

(For aught that ever I could read) 

To whine, put finger i' th' eye, and sob, 

Because h' had ne'er another tub. 

The Ancients make two seVral kinds 

Of prowess in heroic minds, loso 

The active and the passive val'ant, 

Both which are pari libra gallant ; 

For both to give blows, and to carry, 

In fights are equi-necessary : 

But in defeats the passive stout losfi 

Are always found to stand it out 

Most desp'rately, and to outdo 

The active 'gainst a conqu'rmg foe. 

Though we with blacks and blues are suggii'd. 

Or, as the vulgar say, are cudgel'd, jo40 

He that is vaUant and dares fight. 

Though drubb'd, can lose no honour by 't. 

Honour's a lease for lives to come, 

And cannot be extended from 

The legal tenant: 'tis a chattel J04" 

Not to be forfeited in battle. 



PART I. CANTO HI. 



129 



leso 



If he that in the field is alain 

Be in the bed of honouj* lain, 

He that is beaten may be said 

To lie in Honour's truckle-bed. 106O 

For as we see th' echpsed sun 

By mortals is more gaz'd upon 

Than when, adorn'd with all his light, 

He shines in serene sky most bright ; 

So valour in a low estate io«6 

Is most admir'd and wonder'd at. 

Quoth Ralph, How great I do not know 
We may by being beaten grow ; 
But none that see how here we sit 
"Will judge us overgrown with wit. 
As Gifted Brethren, preaching by 
A carnal hour-glass, do imply 
Illumination can convey 
Into them what they have to say, 
But not how much ; so well enough loes 

Know you to charge, but not draw off: 

V. 1061, 1062. In those days there was always an hour- 
glass stood by the pulpit, in a frame of iron made on purpose 
for it, and fastened to the board on wliich the cushion lay, that 
it might be visible to the whole congregation; who, if the ser- 
mon did not hold till the glass was out (which was turned up 
as soon as the text was taken), would say that the preacher 
was lazy; and, if he held out much longer, would yawn and 
stretch, and by those signs signify to the preacher that they 
began to be weai-y of his discourse, and wanted to be dis- 
TOilsed. These hour-glasses remained in some churches till 
within these forty years. If they Hked his discourse, they 
would sometimes ask him for ' another glass.' Ed. 



130 HUDIERAS. 

For who, without a cap and bawble, 

Having subdued a Bear and rabble, 

And might with honour have come off. 

Would put it to a second proof? 1070 

A politic exploit, right fit 

For Presbyterian zeal and wit. 

Quoth Hudibras, That cuckoo's tone, 
Ralpho, thou always harp'st upon : 
When thou at any thing would'st rail, io75 

Thou mak'st Presbytery thy scale 
To take the height on't, and explain 
To what degree it is profane. 
Whats'ever will not with (thy what-d'-ye-call) 
Thy Light jump right, thou caU'st Synodical ; losfi 
As if Presbyt'ry were a standard 
To size whats'ever's to be slander'd. 
Dost not remember how this day 
Thou to my beard wast bold to say 
That thou could'st prove Bear-baiting, equal i085 
With Synods, orthodox and legal ? 
Do, if thou can'st ; for I deny't, 
And dare thee to't with all thy light. 

Quoth Ralpho, Truly that is no 
Hard matter for a man to do 1090 

V. 1072. Ralpho looked upon their ill plight to be owing to 
his master's bad conduct ; and, to vent his resentment, he sa- 
tirises him in the most affecting part of his character, his reli- 
gion. This by degrees brings on the old arguments about Sy- 
nods. The Poet, who thought he had not sufficiently lashed 
classical assemblies, very judiciously completes it, now there 
is full leisure for it. 



PART I. CANTO III. lUl 

That has but any guts in's brains, 
And could believe it worth his pains : 
But since you dare and urge me to it, 
You'll find I've light enough to do it. 

kSynods are mystical Bear-gardens, i)9i 

Where Elders, Deputies, Church-wardens, 
And other Members of the Court, 
Manage the Babylonish sport ; 
For Prolocutor, Scribe, and Bear-ward, 
Do diiFer only in a mere word. iioo 

Both are but sev'ral synagogues 
Of carnal men, and Bears and Dogs : 
Both antichristian assemblies. 
To mischief bent as far 's in them lies : 
Both stave and tail, with fierce contests, iieft 

The one with men, the other beasts. 
The diff'rence is, the one fights with 
The tongue, the other with the teeth ; 
And that they bait but Bears in this. 
In th' other Souls and Consciences : ' mo 
Where Saints themselves are brought to stake 
For Gospel-light and Conscience' sake ; 
Expos'd to Scribes and Presbyters, 
Instead of Mastive Dogs and Curs ; 
Than whom they've less humanity, lus 

For these at souls of men will fly. 
This to the prophet did appear. 
Who in a vision saw a Bear, 
Prefiguring the beastly rage 
Of Church-rule in this latter age ; iiai 



132 HUDIBRAS. 

As is demonstrated at full 

By him that baited the Pope's Bull. 

Bears nat'rally are beasts of prey, 

That live by rapine ; so do they. 

What are their Orders, Constitutions, iiss 

Church-censures, Curses, Absolutions, 

But sev'ral mystic chains they make^ 

To tie poor Christians to the stake ? 

And then set Heathen officers. 

Instead of Dogs, about their ears. :>180 

For to prohibit and dispense. 

To find out, or to make offence ; 

Of hell and heaven to dispose, 

To play with souls at fast and loose ; 

To set what characters they please, ii^ 

And mulcts on sin or godliness ; 

Reduce the Church to Gospel-order, 

By rapine, sacrilege, and murder ; 

To make Presbytery supreme, 

And Kings themselves submit to them ; ]140 

And force all people, though against 

Their consciences, to turn Saints ; 

Must prove a pretty thriving trade. 

When Saints monopolists are made: 

When pious frauds and holy shifts ii45 

Are Dispensations and Gifts, 

There godhness becomes mere ware, 

And ev'ry Synod but a fair. 

Synods are whelps o' th' Inquisition, 

A mongrel breed of like pernicion, "nsa 



PART I. CANTO III. 133 

And, growing up, became the sires 

Of Scribes, Commissioners, and Triers : 

AVhose bu-s'ness is, by cunning sleight 

To cast a figure for men'b light ; 

To find, in lines of beard and face, iist 

The physiognomy of Grace ; 

And by the sound and twang of nose, 

If all be sound within disclose, 

Free from a crack or flaw of sinning, 

AlS men try pipkins by the ringing ; iieo 

By black caps underlaid with white 

Give certain guess at inward light, 

Which Sergeants at the Gospel wear, 

To make the Sp'ritual Calling clear. 

The handkerchief about the neck nes 

V. 1156. These Triers pretended to gi'eat skill iu this 
respect ; and, if they disliked the beard or t'ace of a man, they 
would, for that reason alone, refuse to admit him, •when pre 
sented to a living, unless he had some powerful friend to sup 
port him. " The questions that these men put to the persons 
to be examined were not abilities and learning, but gi'ace in 
their hearts, and that with so bold and saucy an inquisition, 
that some men's spirits trembled at the interrogatories ; they 
plirasing it so, as if (as was said at the Council of Trent) 
they had the Holy Ghost in a cloke-bag." 

Their questions generally were these, or such like: When 
were you converted? Where did you begin to feel the motions 
of the Spirit ? In what year ? in what month ? in what day ? 
about what hour of the day had you the secret call, or motion 
of tlie Spirit, to undertake and labour iu the ministry? What 
work of grace has God wrought upon your soul? And a 
^reat many other « ■ i h -i-w .• ■■< uli )v t re,!,' ^iier;i t ion, predestination, 
and the Uke. 



134 HUDIBRAS. 

(Canonical crava-t of Smeck, 

From whom the institution came, 

When Church and State they set on flame, 

And worn by them as badges then 

Of Spiritual Warfaring-men) iiw 

Judge rightly if Regeneration 

Be of the newest cut in fashion. 

Sure 'tis an orthodox opinion, 

That grace is founded in dominion : 

Great piety consists in pride ; int 

To rule is to be sanctify'd : 

To domineer, and to control. 

Both o'er the body and the soul, 

Is the most perfect discipline 

Of Church-rule, and by right diving. iiso 

Bell and the Dragon's chaplains were 

More moderate than these by far : 

For they (poor knaves) were glad to cheat, 

To get their wives and childi-en meat ; 

But these will not be fobb'd off so, hm 

They must have wealth and power too ; 

Or else with blood and desolation 

They'U tear it out o' th' heart o' th' nation. 

Sure these themselves from primitive 
And Heathen priesthood do derive, uso 

When butchers were the only clerks, 
Elders and Presbyters of Kirks ; 
Whose directory was to kill, 

V. 1166. * Smectymans ♦ was a club of holders forth. 



PART I. CANTO III. 13^ 

And some believe it is so still. 

The only difF'rence is that then 1195 

Thej slaughter'd only beasts, now men. 

For then to sacrifice a buUock, 

Or, now and then, a child to Moloch, 

They count a vile abomination, 

But not to slaughter a whole nation. uoo 

Presbytery does but translate 

The papacy to a free state : 

A commonwealth of Popery, 

Wliere ev'ry village is a See 

As well as Rome, and must maintain laofi 

A tithe-pig metropolitan ; 

Where ev'ry Presbyter and Deacon 

Commands the keys for cheese and bacon, 

And ev'ry hamlet's governed 

By 's Holiness, the Church's head, isio 

More haughty and severe in 's place 

Than Gregory and Boniface. 

Such Church must, surely, be a monster 

With many heads : for if we conster 

Wliat in th' Apocalypse we find, 1316 

According to th' Apostle's mind, 

'Tis that the whore of Babylon 

With many heads did ride upon ; 

Which heads denote the sinful tribe 

Of Deacon, Priest, Lay-elder, Scribe. 1220 

Lay-elder, Simeon to Levi, 
Whose Uttle finger is as heavy 
As loins of ])atriarchs, prince-prelate. 



136 HUDIBRAS. 

And bishop-secular. This zealot 

Is of a mongrel diverse kind, 1225 

Clerick before and Lay behind ; 

A lawless linsey-woolsey brother, 

Half of one order, half another ; 

A creature of amphibious nature, 

On land a beast, a fish in water ; I23fl 

That always preys on grace or sin ; 

A sheep without, a wolf within. 

This fierce inquisitor has chief 

Dominion over men's belief 

And manners ; can pronounce a saint 1235 

Idolatrous, or ignorant. 

When superciliously he sifts 

Through coarsest boulter others' gifts : 

For all men live and judge amiss 

Whose talents jump not just with his ; 1940 

He'll lay on Gifts with hands, and place 

On dullest noddle Light and Grace, 

The manufacture of the kirk. 

Those pastors are but th' handywork 

Of his mechanic paws, instilling 1248 

Divinity in them by feeling ; 

From whence they start up Chosen Vessels, 

Made by contact, as men get measles. 

So Cardinals, they say, do grope 

At th' other end the new-made Pope. 1250 

Hold, hold, quoth Hudibras, soft fire, 
They say, does make sweet malt. Good Squire, 
Festina lente, not too fjist, 



PART I. CANTO III. 137 

For haste yihe proverb says) makes waste. 

The quirks and cavils thou dost make i266 

Are false and built upon mistake : 

And I shall bring you, with your pack 

Of fallacies, t' Elenchi back ; 

And put your arguments in mood 

And figure to be understood. 126O 

I'll force you by right ratiocination 

To leave your vitilitigation, 

And make you keep to th' question close 

And argue dialecticSiS. 

The question then, to state it first, 1305 

Is, which is better or which worst, 
Synods or Bears ? Bears I avow 
To be the worst, and Synods thou ; 
But to make good th' assertion. 
Thou say'st they're really all one. laro 

If so, not worse; for if they're idem, 
Why then tantundem dat tantidem. 
For if they are the same, by course 
Neither is better, neither worse. 
But I deny they are the same, 1375 

More than a maggot and I am. 
That both are animalia 
I grant, but not rationalia : 
For though they do agree in kind, 
Specific difference we find ; 128O 

And can no more make Bears of these. 
Than prove my horse is Socrates. 
That Synods are Bear-gardens, too, 

VOL,. I. 13 



138 HLDIBRAS. 

rhou dost affirm ; but I say No : 

And thus I prove it, in a word ; isss 

Whats'ever Assembly 's not empow'r'd 

To Censure, Curse, Absolve, and ordain, 

Can be no Synod ; but Bear-garden 

Has no such pow'r ; ergo, 'tis none : 

And so thy sophistry 's o'erthrown. 1890 

But yet we are beside the quest'on 
Which thou didst raise the first contest on : 
For that was, Whether Bears are better 
Than Synod-men ? I say Negatur. 
That Bears are beasts, and Synods men, 1295 

Is held by all : they're better then ; 
For Bears and Dogs on four legs go. 
As beasts ; but Synod-men on two. 
'Tis true they all have teeth and nails ; 
But prove that Synod-men have tails ; isoo 

Or that a rugged shaggy fur 
Grows o'er the hide of Presbyter ; 
Or that his snout and spacious ears 
Do hold proportion with a Bear's. 
A Bear's a savage beast, of all i805 

Most ugly and unnatural : 
Wlielp'd without form, until the dam 
Has lickt it into shape and frame : 
But all thy light can ne'er evict 
That ever Synod-man was lickt, isic 

Ur brought to any other fashion 
Than his own will and inclination. 

But thou dost further yet in this 



PART I. CANTO III. 139 

Oppugn thyself and sense ; that is, 

Thou would'st have Presbyters to go isn 

For Bears and Dogs, and Bear-wards too : 

A strange chimera of beasts and men, 

Made up of pieces het'rogene ; 

Such as in Nature never met 

In eodem suhjecto yet. 1820 

Thy other arguments are all 
Supposures hypothetical, 
That do but beg ; and we may choose 
Either to grant them or refuse. 
Much thou hast said, which I know when i326 
And where thou stol'st from other men 
(Whereby 'tis plain thy Light and Gifts 
Are all but plagiary shifts). 
And is the same that Ranter said, 
WTio, arguing with me, broke my head, isao 

And tore a handful of my beard : 
The self-same cavils then I heard, 
When, b'ing in hot dispute about 
This controversy, we fell out ; 
And what thou know'st I answer'd then isss 

Will serve to answer thee agen. 



V. 1329. The Banters were a vile sect that sprung up in 
,Jiose times. Alexander Ross observes, " That they held that 
God, devil, angels, heaven and hell, &c. were fictions and 
fables; that Moses, John Baptist, and Christ, were impostors; 
and what Christ and the Apostles acquainted the world with, 
as to matter of religion, perished with them ; that preaching 
and praying are useless, and that preaching is but publick 



140 HUDIBRAS. 

Quoth Ralpho, Nothing but th' abuse 
Of human learning you produce ; 
Learning, that cobweb of tbe brain, 
Profane, erroneous, and vain ; 134a 

A trade of knowledge as replete 
As others are with fraud and cheat ; 
An art t' encumber Gifts and wit, 



lying; that there is an end of all ministry and adnumstrations, 
and people are to be taught immediately from God," &c. 

V. 1339. Ralpho was as great an enemy to hiiman learning 
as Jack Cade and his fellow rebels. Cade's words to Lord 
Say, before he ordered his head to be cut off: "I am the 
besom that must sweep the Court clean of such filth as thou 
art; thou hast most traitorously con-upted the youth of the 
realm in erecting a grammar-school; and whereas, before, 
our forefathers had no other books but the Score and the 
Tally, thou hast caused Printing to be used ; and, contrary 
to the King, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a Paper- 
mill. It will be proved to thy face, that thou hast men about 
thee that usually talk of a noun and a verb, and such abomi- 
nable words, as no Christian ear can endure to hear." 

It was the opinion of those tinkers, tailors, &c. that go- 
verned Chelmsford at the beginning of the Rebellion, " That 
learning had always been an enemy to the Gospel, and that 
It were a happy thing if there were no universities, and that 
all books were burned except the Bible." 

" I tell you (says a writer of those times) wicked books do 
as much wound us as the swords of our adversaries ; for this 
manner of learning is superfluous and costly: many tongues 
and languages are only confusion, and only wit, reason, under- 
standing, and scholarship, are the main means that oppose us, 
and hinder our cause ; therefore, if ever we have the fortune 
to get the upperhand — we will down with all law and learn- 
mg, and have no other rule but the Carpenter's, nor any 
?»Titing or reading but the Score and the Tally." 



TART I. CANTO HI, 141 

And render both for nothing fit ; 

Makes Light unactive, dull and troubled, 1345 

Like little David in Saul's doublet : 

A cheat that scholars put upon 

Other men's reason and their own ; 

A fort of error, to ensconce 

Absurdity and ignorance, IS60 

That renders all the avenues 

To truth impervious and abstruse, 

By making plain things, in debate. 

By art perplext and intricate : 

For nothing goes for Sense or Light, lass 

That will not with old rules jump right ; 

As if rules were not in the schools 

Deriv'd from truth, but truth from rules. 

This Pagan, Heathenish invention 

Is good for nothing but contention : iseo 

For as in sword and buckler fight 

AJl blows do on the target light. 

So, when men argue, the great'st part 

O' th' contest falls on tenns of art. 

Until the fustian stuff be spent, 1365 

And then they fall to th' argument. 

Quoth Hudibras, Friend Ralph, thou hast 

Outrun the constable at last : 

For thou art fallen on a new 

Dispute, as senseless as untrue, isTO 

But to the former opposite, 

And contrary as black to white : 

Mere disparata ; that concerning 



142 HUDIBKAS. 

Presbytery, this human learning ; 

Two things s' averse, they never yet 1S75 

But in thy rambling fancy met. 

But I shall take a fit occasion 

T' evince thee by' ratiocination, 

Some other time in place more proper 

Than this we 're in ; therefore let's stop here, laso 

And rest our weary'd bones awliile, 

Already tir'd with other toiL 



PART IL (JAWTO I. 14 S 



PART II. CANTO I. 



THE AKGUMENT. 

The Knight, by damnable Magician, 
Being cast illegally in prison, 
Love brings his action on the case, 
And lays it upon Hudibras. 
How he receives the Lady's visit, 
And cunningly solicits his suit, 
Which she defers ; yet, on parole. 
Redeems him from th' enchanted hole. 

But now, t' observe Romantique method, 

Let bloody steel awhile be sheathed. 

And all those harsh and rugged sounds 

Of bastinadoes, cuts, and wounds, 

Exchang'd to love's more gentle style, i 

Arg.Y.l.l. Var. 

' The Knight being clapp'd by th' heels in prison, 
The last unhappy expedition.' 

Arg. V. 6. Var. ' How he revi's,' &c. 

V. 1. The beginning of this Second Part may perhaps 
seem strange and abrupt to those who do not know that it 
was written on purpose in imitation of Virgil, who begins the 
Fourth Book of his ^neid in the very same maimer, 'At 
regina gravi,' &c. And this is enough to satisfy the curiosity 
of those who believe that invention and fancy ought to be 
measured, Uke cases in law, by precedents, or else tiiey are 
m the power of the critic. 

^^•. 2. Var. ' Let rusty steel,' and ' '^'^ + •"'=^.' ^^-->i ' 



J 44 HLDIBKAS. 

To let our reader breathe awhile. 

In which, that we may be as brief as 

Is possible, by way of preface : 

Is 't not enoiigii to make one strange, 

That some men's fancies should ne'er change, lo 

But make all people do and say 

The same things still tlie self-same way? 

Some writers make all ladies purloin'd, 

And knights pursuing like a whirlwind : 

Others make all their knights, in fits % 

Of jealousy, to lose their wits ; 

Till dra\ving blood o' th' dames, like witches, 

They're forthwith cur'd of their capriches. 

Some always thrive m their amours, 

By pulling plasters oif their sores sq 

As cripples do to get an alms, 

Just so do they, and win their dames. 

Some force whole regions, in despite 

O' geography, to change their site ; 

Make former times shake hands with latter, 95 

And that which was before come after. 

But those that write in rhyme still make 

The one verse for the other's sake ; 

For one for sense, and one for rhyme, 

i think 's sufficient at one time. si 

V. 5- 8. Var. ' And uuto love turn we our style, 
To let our readers breathe awhile, 
By this time tir'd with th' horrid sounds 
Of blows, and cuts, and blood, and wounds, 

V. 10. Var. ' That a man's fancy.' 



PAKT II. CANTO I. 145 

But we forget in what sad plight 
Vie whilom left the captiv'd Knight 
And pensive Squire, both bruis'd in body, 
And conjur'd into safe custody. 
Tir'd with dispute, and speaking Latin, ss 

As well as basting and Bear-baiting, 
And desperate of any course 
To free himself by wit or force. 
His only solace was, that now 
His dog-bolt fortune was so low, 40 

That either it must quickly end, 
Or turn about again, and mend ; 
In which he found th' event, no less 
Than other times, beside his guess. 

There is a tall long-sided dame, u 

(But wond'rous light) ycleped Fame, 
That like a thin cameleon boards 
Herself on air, and eats her words ; 
Upon her shoulders wings she wears 
Like hanging sleeves, lin'd through with ears, to 
And eyes, and tongues, as poets list, 
Made good by deep mythologist : 
With these she through the welkin flies. 
And sometimes carries truth, oft lies ; 
With letters hung, like eastern pigeons, st 

V. 32. Var. * We lately.' 

V. 48. The beauty of this consists in the double meaning. 
The first alludes to Fame's living on Report: the second is 
ftn insinuation, that if a report is narrowly enquired into, and 
traced up to the original author, it is made to contradict itself. 



146 HUDIBRAS. 

And Mercuries of furthest regions ; 
Diurnals writ for regulation 
Of lying, to inform the nation, 
And by theii* public use to bring down 
The rate of whetstones in the kingdom. «« 

About her neck a packet-mail. 
Fraught with advice, some fresh, some stale ; 
Of men that walk'd when they were dead, 
And cows of monsters brought to bed ; 
Of hailstones big as pullets' eggs, 65 

And puppies whelp'd with twice two legs ; 
A blazing star seen in the west. 
By six or seven men at least. 
Two trumpets she does sound at once, 
But both of clean contrary tones ; n 

But whether both with the same wind. 
Or one before and one behind, 
We know not, only this can tell. 
The one sounds vilely, th' other well ; 
And therefore vulgar authors name n 

Th' one Good, the other evil Fame. 
This tattling gossip knew too well 
What mischief Hudibras befell ; 
And straight the spiteful tidings bears 
Of all, to th' unkind Widow's ears. 99 

Democritus ne'er laugh'd so loud 
To see bawds carted through the crowd, 
Or funerals, with stately pomp, 

V. 77. Var. ' T wattling gossip.' 



PART II. CANTO I. 147 

March slowlj on in solemn dump, 

As she laugh'd out, until her back, m 

As well a,s sides, was like to crack. 

She vow'd she would go see the sight, 

And visit the distressed Knight ; 

To do the office of a neighbour. 

And be a gossip at his labour; 90 

And from his wooden jail the stocks 

To set at large his fetter-locks ; 

.And by exchange, parole, or ransom, 

To free him from th' enchanted mansion. 

This b'ing resolv'd, she call'd for hood 95 

And usher, implements abroad 

Which ladies wear, besides a slender 

Young waiting damsel to attend her. 

All which appearing, on she went 

To find the Knight, in limbo pent ; loo 

And 'twas not long before she found 

Him and his stout Squire in the pound, 

Both coupled in enchanted tether 

By further leg behind together. 

For as he sat upon his rump, los 

His head, like one in doleful dump. 

Between his knees, his hands apply'd 

Unto his ears on either side, 

And by him in another hole 

Afflicted Ralpho, cheek by jowl ; no 

V. 91. Var. * That is to see him deliver'd safe 

Of 's wooden burden, and Squire Raph.' 



148 HUDIBRAS. 

She came upon him in his wooden 

Magician's circle on a sudden, 

As spu'its do t' a conjurer 

When in their dreadful shapes th' appear. 

No sooner did the Knight perceive her iia 

But straight he fell into a fever, 
Inflam'd all over with disgrace 
To be seen by her in such a place ; 
Which made him hang his head, and scowl. 
And wink, and goggle like an owl : 12c 

He felt his brains begin to swim. 
When thus the Dame accosted him. 

This place (quoth she) they say 's enchanted, 
And with delinquent spirits haunted, 
That here are ty'd in chains and scourg'd 125 

Until their guilty crimes be purg'd : 
Look, there are two of them appear 
Like persons I have seen somewhere. 
Some have mistaken blocks and posts 
For spectres, apparitions, ghosts, lu 

With saucer eyes, and horns ; and some 
Have heard the devil beat a drum ; 
But, if our eyes are not false glasses 
That give a wrong account of faces, 

V. Ill, 112. There was never certainly a pleasanter scene 
imagined than this before us ; it is the most diverting incident 
in the whole Poem. The unlucky and unexpected visit of the 
Lady, the attitude and surprise of the Knight, the confusion 
and blushes of the lover, and the satirical raillery of a mistress, 
are represented in lively colours, and conspire to make this 
interview wonderfully pleasing. 



PART II. CANTO I. 149 

That beard and I sliould be acquainted las 

Before 'twas conjur'd and enchanted ; 

For, though it be disfigur'd somewhat, 

As if 't had lately been in combat, 

It did belong to a worthy Knight, 

Howe'er this gobhn is come by 't. i40 

Wlien Hudibras the Lady heard 
Discoursing thus upon his beard. 
And speak with such respect and honour 
Both of the beard and the beard's owner, 
He thought it best to set as good i4« 

A face upon it as he could ; 
And thus he spoke : Lady, your bright 
And radiant eyes are in the right ; 
The beard 's th' identique beard you knew, 
The same numerically true ; 150 

Nor is it worn by fiend or elf, 
But its proprietor himself. 

O heavens ! quoth she, can that be true ? 
I do begin to fear 'tis you ; 

Not by your individual whiskers, i66 

But by your dialect and discourse, 
That never spoke to man or beast 
In notions vulgarly exprest : 
But what malignant star, alas ! 
Has brought you both to this sad pass ? IM 

Quoth he, The fortune of the war, 
Wliich I am less afflicted for 

V". 142. Var. ' To take kind notice of his beard.' 



*00 IIUDIBRAS. 

Than to be seen with beard and face 
By you in such a homely case. 

Quoth she, Those need not be asham'd i6i 

For being honourably maim'd : 
If he that is in battle conquer'd 
Have any title to his own beard, 
Though yours be sorely lugg'd and torn, 
It does your visage more adorn 17 

Than if 'twere prun'd and starch'd and lander'd, 
And cut square by the Kussian standard. 
A torn beard 's like a tatter'd ensign ; 
That 's bravest which there are most rents in. 
That petticoat about your shoulders 171 

Does not so well become a soldier's ; 
And Fm afraid they are worse handled, 
Although i' th' rear your beard the van led ; 
And those uneasy bruises make 
My heart for company to ake, lae 

To see so worshipful a friend 
I' th' pillory set, at the wrong end. 

Quoth Hudibras, This thing call'd Pain 
Is (as the learned Stoics maintain) 
Not bad simpliciter, nor good, I8r 

But merely as 'tis understood. 
Sense is deceitful, and may feign 
As well in counterfeiting pain 
As other gross phenomenas. 
In which it oft mistakes the case. 190 

V. 164. Var. • In such elenctiqne case. 



PART II. CANTO I. 



]r>i 



But since th' immortal intellect 

(That 's free from error and defect, 

Whose objects still persist the same) 

Is free from outward bruise or maim, 

Which nought external can expose i95 

To gross material bangs or blows, 

It follows we can ne'er be sure 

Whether we pain or not endure ; 

And just so far are sore and griev'd 

As by the fancy is believ'd. 200 

Some have been wounded with conceit, 

Ajid dy'd of mere opinion straight ; 

Others, though wounded sore in reason, 

Felt no contusion nor discretion, 

A Saxon duke did grow so fat 205 

That mice (as histories relate) 

Ate grots and labyrinths to dwell in 

His postique parts, without his feeling ; 

Then how is 't possible a kick 

Should e'er reach that way to the quick ? sio 

Quoth she, I grant it is in vain 
For one that 's basted to feel pain, 
] because the pangs his bones endure 
Contribute nothing to the cure ; 
Yet honour hurt is wont to rage 215 

With pain no med'cine can assuage. 

Quoth he, That honour 's very squeamish 
That takes a basting for a blemish ; 
For what 's more hon'rable than scars, 
Or skin to tatters rent in wars ? 220 



152 HUDIBRAS. 

Some have been beaten till they know 

What wood a cudgel 's of by th' blow ; 

Some kick'd until they can feel whether 

A shoe be Spanish or neat's leather ; 

And yet have met, after long running, 225 

"With some whom they have taught that cunning. 

The furthest way about t' o'ercome 

In th' end does prove the nearest home. 

By laws of learned duellists, 

They that are bruis'd with wood or fists, 230 

And think one beating may for once 

Suffice, are cowards and pultroons ; 

But if they dare engage t' a second, 

They 're stout and gallant fellows reckon'd. 

Th' old Romans freedom did bestow, 2sa 

Our princes worship, with a blow. 

King Pyrrhus cur'd his splenetic 

And testy courtiers with a kick. 

The Negus, when some mighty lord 

Or potentate 's to be restor'd, 340 

And pardon'd for some great offence 

With which he 's willing to dispense, 

First has him laid upon his belly. 

Then beaten back and side t' a jelly : 

That done, he rises, humbly bows, 24 s 

And gives thanks for the princely blows ; 

V. 232. Var. ' Poltroons.' 
V. 239. A king of Ethiopia. 

V. 241, 242. Var. ' To his good grace for some offenco 
Forfeit before, and pardon'd since.' 



PART II. CANTO I. 153 

Departs not meanly proud, and boasting 

Of his magnificent rib-roasting. 

The beaten soldier proves most manful 

That, like his sword, endures the anvil; 250 

And justly 's held more formidable, 

The more his valour 's malleable : 

But he that fears a bastinado 

Will run away from his own shadow. 

And though I'm now in durance fast 25. 

By our own party basely cast. 

Ransom, exchange, parole refus'd, 

And worse than by the en'my us'd ; 

In close catasta shut, past hope 

Of wit or valour to elope ; 280 

As beards, the nearer that they tend 

To th' earth, still grow more reverend, 

And cannons shoot the higher pitches 

The lower we let down their breeches, 

I'll make this low dejected fate 265 

Advance me to a greater height. 

Quoth she, T ou 've almost made me' in love 
With that which did my pity move. 
Great wits and valours, like great states. 
Do sometimes sink with their own weights • 270 
Th' extremes of glory and of shame, 
Like east and west, become the same . 
No Indian prince nas to his palace 
More foll'wers than a thief to th' gallows, 
But, if a beating seem so brave, 274 

Wliat glories must a whipping have ? 

VOL. I. 14 



154 QUDIBHAS. 

Such great achievements cannot fail 

To cast salt on a woman's tail : 

For if I thought your nat'ral talent 

Of passive courage were so gallant, 28O 

As you strain hard to have it thought, 

I could grow amorous and dote. 

When Hudibras this language heard, 
He prick'd up 's ears, and strok'd his beard ; 
Thought he, This is the lucky hour, 285 

Wines work when vines are in the ilow'r : 
This crisis then I'll set my rest on, 
And put her boldly to the quest'on. 

Madam, what you would seem to doubt 
Shall be to all the world made out ; 290 

How Tve been drubbM, and with what spirit 
And magnanimity I bear it : 
And if you doubt it to be true, 
I'll stake myself down against you ; 
And if I fail in love or truth, 295 

Be you the winner and take both. 

Quoth she, I've heard old cunning stagers 
Say, fools for arguments use wagers ; 
And, though I prais'd your valour, yet 
I did not mean to baulk your wit ; soo 

Which if you have, you must needs know 
What I have told you before now. 
And you b' experiment have prov'd ; 
I cannot love where I'm belov'd. 

Quoth Hudibras, 'Tis a caprich 30; 

Beyond th' infliction of a witch ; 



TAR-T II. CANTO I. loO 

So cheats to ])lay with those still aim 

That do not understand the game. 

Love in your heart as idly burns 

As fire in antique Roman urns 810 

To warm the dead, and vainly light 

Those only that see nothing by't. 

Have you not power to entertain, 

And render love for love again ; 

As no man can draw in liis breath sift 

At once, and force out air beneath ? 

Or do you love yourself so much. 

To bear all rivals else a grutch ? 

Wliat fate can lay a greater curse 

Than you upon yourself would force ? aw 

For Wedlock without love, some say, 

Is but a lock without a key. 

It is a kind of rape to marry 

One that neglects or cares not for ye : 

For what does make it ravishment 9% 

But b'ing against the mind's consent? 

A rape that is the more inhuman, 

For being acted by a woman. 

Why are you fair, but to entice us 

To love you, that you may despise us ? 337 

But though you cannot love, you say, 

Out of your own fanatic way, 

Wliy should you not at least allow 

Those that love you to do so too ? 

V. 332. Vax. ' Fanatique.' Qy. ' Fantastic? ' 



136 HUDIBRAS. 

For, as you fly me, and pursue 33ft 

Love more averse, so I do you ; 
And am by your own doctrine taught 
To practise what you call a fault. 

Quoth she, If what you say is true, 
You must fly me as I do you ; 340 

But 'tis not what we do, but say, 
In love and preaching, that must sway. 

Quoth he, To bid me not to love 
Is to forbid ray pulse to move, 
My beard to grow, my ears to prick up, 348 

Or (when I'm in a fit) to hiccup. 
Command me to piss out the moon, 
And 'twill as easily be done. 
Love's pow'r 's too great to be withstood 
By feeble human flesh and blood. sso 

'Twas he that brought upon his knees 
The hect'ring kill-cow Hercules, 
Transform'd his leager-lion's skin 
T' a petticoat, and made him spin ; 
Seiz'd on his club, and made it dwindle 866 

T' a feeble distaff and a spindle : 
'Twas he that made emp'rors gallants 
To their own sisters and their aunts ; 
Set Popes and Cardinals agog, 
To play with pages at leap-frog : mo 

'Twas he that gave our Senate purges, 
^d fluxt the House of many a burgess ; 
Made those that represent the nation 
Submit and suffer amputation ; 



PART II. CANTO T. 



157 



S?B 



Ajid all the Grandees o' th' Cabal m 

Adjourn to tubs at spring and fall. 
He mounted Synod-men and rode 'em 
To Dirty-Lane and Little Sodom ; 
Made 'em curvet like Spanish Jenets, 

And take the ring at Madam 's. 870 

'Twas he that made Saint Francis do 
More than the devil could tempt him to, 
In cold and frosty weather grow 
Enamour'd of a wife of snow ; 
And though she were of rigid temper, 
With melting flames accost and tempt her ; 
Which after in enjoyment quenching, 
He hung a garland on his engine. 

Quoth she, If love have these effects, 
Why is it not forbid our sex ? 
Why is 't not damn'd and interdicted 
For diabolical and wicked ? 
And sung, as out of tune, against, 
As Turk and Pope are by the Saints ? 
I find I've greater reason for it, 385 

Than I beUev'd before, t' abhor it. 

Quoth Hudibras, These sad effects 
Spring from your heathenish neglects 

V. 370. "Stennet was the person whose name was 
dashed," says Sir Roger L'Estrange, 'Key to Hudibras.' 
' Her husband was by profession a broom-man and lay-elder. 
She followed the laudable employment of bawding, and ma- 
naged several intrigues for those Brothers and Sisters whose 
purity consisted chiefly in the whiteness of their linen." 



380 



158 HUDIBEAS. 

Of Love's great pow'r, which he returns 

Upon yourselves with equal scorns, am 

And those who worthy lovers slight, 

Plagues with prepost'rous appetite : 

This made the beauteous Queen of Crete 

To take a town-bull for her sweet ; 

And from her greatness stoop so low, sm 

To be the rival of a cow : 

Others to prostitute their great hearts 

To be baboons' and monkeys' sweethearts : 

Some with the devil himself in league grow, 

By 's representative a Negro. 400 

'Twas this made Vestal maid love-sick, 

And venture to be bury'd quick : 

Some by their fathers and their brothers 

To be made mistresses and mothers. 

'Tis this that proudest dames enamours 405 

On lacquies and valets des chamhres ; 

Their haughty stomachs overcomes, 

And makes them stoop to dirty grooms ; 

To shght the world, and to disparage 

Claps, issue, infamy, and marriage. 410 

Quoth she. These judgments are severe. 
Yet such as I should rather bear 
Than trust men with their oaths, or prove 
Their faith and secrecy in love. 

Says he. There is as weighty reason 41 

For secrecy in love as treason. 

V. 406. Var. ' Vai-lets des chainbres.* 



PART II. CANTO I. 1&9 

Love is a burglarer, a felon, 

That at the windore eye does steal in 

To rob the heart, and with his prey 

Steals out again a closer way, 4S0 

Which whosoever can discover, 

lie 's sure (as he deserves) to suffer. 

Love is a fire, that burns and sparkles 

In men as nat'rally as in charcoals, 

Which sooty chemists stop in holes 436 

When out of wood they extract coals ; 

So lovers should their passions choke, 

That though they burn, they may not smoke, 

'Tis like that sturdy thief that stole 

And dragg'd beasts backward into 's hole ; 4M 

So love does lovers, and us men 

Draws by the tails into his den, 

That no impression may discover 

And trace t' his cave the wary lover. 

But if you doubt I should reveal 48f 

What you intrust me under seal, 

I'll prove myself as close and virtuous 

As your own secretary' Albertus. 

Quoth she, I grant you may be close 
In hiding what your aims propose : 44« 

Love-passions are like parables, 
.Hy which men still mean something else : 
Though love be all the world's pretence, 
Money 's the mythologic sense, 

V. 418. Var. ' Window eye.' 



160 HUDIBRAS. 

The real substance of the shadow, 446 

Which all address and courtship 's made to. 

Thought he, I understand your play, 
And how to quit you your own way : 
He that will win his dame must do 
As love does when he bends his bow; 450 

With one hand thrust the lady from, 
And with the other pull her home. 
I grant, quoth he, wealth is a great 
Provocative to am'rous heat : 
It is all philtres and high diet 4M 

That makes love rampant and to fly out: 
'Tis beauty always in the flower, 
That buds and blossoms at fourscore ; 
*Tis that by which the sun and moon 
At their own weapons are outdone : 4A0 

That makes knights-errant fall in trances, 
And lay about 'em in romances : 
*Tis virtue, wit, and worth, and all 
That men divine and sacred call ; 
For what is worth in any thing 4M 

But so much money as 'twill bring? 
Or what but riches is there known 
WTiich man can solely call his own, 
In which no creature goes his half. 
Unless it be to squint and laugh ? 411 

I do confess, with goods and land, 
I'd have a wife at second-hand ; 
And such you are : nor is 't your person 
My stomach 's set so sharp and fierce on, 



PART II. CANTO I. 161 

But 'tis (yonr better part) your riches 47a 

That my enamour'd heart bewitches : 

Let me your fortune but possess, 

And settle your person how you please ; 

Or make it o'er in trust to th' devil, 

You '11 find me reasonable and civil. 48O 

Quoth she, I like this plainness better 
Than false mock-passion, speech, or letter, 
Or any feat of qualm or sowning, 
But hanging of yourself or drowning ; 
Your only way with me to break 488 

Your mind is breaking of your neck : 
For as when merchants break, o'erthrown 
Like nine-pins, they strike others down. 
So that would break my heart ; which done, 
My tempting fortune is your own. 490 

These are but trifles ; ev'ry lover 
"Will damn himself over and over, 
And greater matters undertake. 
For a less worthy mistress' sake : 
Yet they 're the only ways to prove 499 

Th' unfeign'd realities of love ; 
For he that hangs, or beats out 's brains. 
The devil 's in him if he feigns. 

Quoth Hudibras, This way 's too rough 
For mere experiment and proof; 500 

It is no jesting trivial matter 
To swing i' th' air, or dive in water, 

V. 483. Var. 'Swoonuag. 



162 HLDIBRAS. 

And like a water-witch try love ; 

That 's to destroy, and not to prove : 

As if a man should be dissected, ws 

To find what part is disaffected ; 

Your better way is to make over, 

In trust, your fortune to your lover. 

Trust is a trial ; if it break, 

'Tis not so desp'rate as a neck : 510 

Beside, th' experiment 's more certain ; 

Men venture necks to gain a fortune : 

The soldier does it ev'ry day 

(Eight to the week) for sixpence pay ; 

Your pettifoggers damn their souls, su 

To share with knaves in cheating fools ; 

And merchants, vent'ring through the main, 

Shght pirates, rocks, and horns, for gain. 

This is the way I advise you to ; 

Trust me, and see what I will do. 590 

Quoth she, I should be loth to run 
Myself all th' hazard, and you none ; 
Which must be done, unless some deed 
Of yours aforesaid do precede : 
Give but yourself one gentle swing ssi 

For trial, and I'll cut the string ; 
Or give that rev'rend head a maul, 
Or two or three, against a wall, 
To show you are a man of mettle, 
And I'll engage myself to settle. sso 

Quoth he, My head 's not made of brass, 
As Friar Bacon's noddle was, 



PART II. CANTO I. 163 

Nor (like the Indian's scull) so tough 

That, authors say, 'twas musket-proof; 

As it had need to be, to enter «S0 

As yet on any new adventure. 

You see what bangs it has endur'd, 

That would, before new feats, be cur*d : 

But if that 's all you stand upon. 

Here strike me, Luck, it shall be done. 640 

Quoth she, The matter 's not so far gone 
As you suppose ; two words t' a bargain : 
That may be done, and time enough, 
When you have given downright proof: 
And yet 'tis no fantastic pique 6U 

I have to love, nor coy dishke ; 
'Tis no implicit nice aversion 
T' your conversation, mien, or person ; 
But a just fear lest you should prove 
False and perfidious in love : 550 

For, if I thought you could be true, 
I could love twice as much as you. 

Quoth he. My faith as adamantin 
As chains of Destiny I'll maintain ; 
True as Apollo ever spoke, 5ai 

Or oracle from heart of oak : 
And if you '11 give my flame but vent, 
Now in close hugger-mugger pent, 
And shine upon me but benignly 
With that one and that other pigsney, 56o 

The sun and day shall sooner part 
Than love or you shake oiF my heart ; 



164 HODIBRAS. 

The sun, that shall no more dispense 

His own, but your bright influence. 

I'll carve your name on barks of trees sea 

With true-love-knots and flourishes, 

That shall infuse eternal sprmg 

And everlasting flourishing ; 

Drink ev'ry letter on 't in stum, 

And make it brisk Champaign become. 670 

Where'er you tread, your foot shall set 

The primi'ose and the violet ; 

All spices, perfumes, and sweet powders, 

Shall borrow from your breath their odours ; 

Nature her charter shall renew, sit 

And take all lives of things from you ; 

The world depend upon your eye. 

And, when you frown upon it, die : 

Only our loves shall still survive, 

New worlds and Natures to outlive, sso 

And like to heralds' moons remain 

All crescents, without change or wane. 

Hold, hold, quoth she, no more of this ; 
Sir Knight, you take your aim amiss ; 
For you will find it a hard chapter ess 

To catch me with poetic rapture. 
In which your Mastery of Art 
Doth shew itself, and not your heart ; 
Nor will you raise in mine combustion 
By dint of high heroic fustian. sM 

She that with poetry is won 
Is but a desk to write upon; 



PART II. CANTO I. 165 

And what men say of her they mean 

No more than on the thing they lean. 

Some with Arabian spices strive 595 

T' embalm her cruelly alive ; 

Or season her, as French cooks use 

Their haut-gousts, houilles, or ragousts ; 

Use her so barbarously ill 

To grind her hps upon a mill, 60o 

Until ihQ facet doublet doth 

Fit their rhymes rather than her mouth ; 

Her mouth, compar'd t' an oyster's, with 

A row of pearl in 't 'stead of teeth. 

Others make posies of her cheeks, 605 

Where red and whitest colours mix ; 

In which the lily and the rose 

For Indian lake and ceruse goes. 

The sun and moon, by her bright eyes 

Eclips'd and darken'd in the skies, eic 

Are but black patches that she wears, 

Cut into suns, and moons, and stars ; 

By which astrologers, as well 

As those in heav'n above, can tell 

What strange events they do foreshow 615 

Unto her under-world below. 

Her voice the music of the spheres, 

So loud it deafens mortals' ears. 

As wise philosophers have thought, 

And that 's the cause we hear it not. 62c 

This has been done by some, who those 

Th' ador'd in rhyme would kick in prose ; 



166 HUDIBRAS. 

And in those ribands would have hiing 

Of which melodiously they sung. 

That have the hard fate to write best 625 

Of those still that deserve it least : 

It matters not how false or forc'd, 

So the best things be said o' th' worst; 

It goes for nothing when 'tis said, 

Only the arrow 's drawn to th' head, 636 

Whether it be a swan or goose 

They level at : so shepherds use 

To set the same mark on the hip 

Both of their sound and rotten sheep : 

For wits that carry low or wide 635 

Must be aim'd higher, or beside 

The mark, which else they ne'er come nigh 

But when they take their aim awry. 

But I do wonder you should choose 

This way t' attack me with your Muse, 64t 

As one cut out to pass your tricks on, 

With Fulhams of poetic fiction. 

I rather hop'd I should no more 

Hear from you o' th' gallanting score ; 

For hard dry bastings us'd to prove 645 

The readiest remedies of love 

Next a dry diet : but if those fail. 

Yet this uneasy loop-hol'd jail, 

In which y' are hamper'd by the fetlock. 

Cannot but put y* in mind of wedlock ; esc 

V. 642. A cant word for false dice. 



PART II. CANTO I. 167 

Wedlock, that 's worse than any hole here, 

If that may serve you for a cooler 

T' allay your mettle, all agog 

Upon a wife, the heavier clog : 

Nor rather thank your gentler fate, M5 

That for a bruis'd or broken pate 

Has freed you from those knobs that grow 

Much harder on the marry'd brow. 

But if no dread can cool your courage 

From vent'rmg on that dragon, mai^riage ; 660 

Yet give me quarter, and advance 

To nobler aims your puissance ; 

Level at beauty and at wit. 

The fairest mark is easiest hit. 

Quoth Hudibras, I'm beforehand 4n 

In that already with your command ; 
For where does beauty and high wit 
But in your Constellation meet ? 

Quoth she. What does a match imply 
But likeness and equality ? 670 

I know you cannot think me fit 
To be th' yokefellow of your wit; 
Nor take one of so mean deserts 
To be the partner of your parts ; 
A grace which, if I could believe, 675 

I've not the conscience to receive. 

That conscience, quoth Hudibras, 
Is misinform'd : I'll state the case. 
K man may be a legal doner 
Of any thing whereof he 's owner, 680 



1 G8 HUDIliRAS. 

Aiid may confer it where he lists, 

r th' judgment of all casuists: 

Then wit, and parts, and valour, may 

Be ali'nated and made away 

By those that are proprietors, esj 

As I may give or sell my horse 

Quoth she, I grant the case is true 
And proper 'twixt your horse and you : 
But whether I may take, as well 
As you may give away or sell ? 690 

Buyers, you know, are bid beware ; 
And worse than thieves receivers are. 
How shall I answer Hue and Cry 
For a Roan-gelding, twelve hands high, 
All spurr'd and switch'd, a lock on 's hoof, 69fi 
A sorrel mane? Can I bring proof 
Where, when, by whom, and what y' were sold for, 
And in the open market told for ? 
Or, should I take you for a stray, 
You must be kept a year and day 700 

(Ere I can own you) here i' th' pound, 
AYhere, if y' are sought, you may bo found ; 
And in the mean time I mus^t pay 
For all your provender and hay. 

Quoth he. It stands me much upon 7*^0 

T' enervate this objection. 
And prove myself, by topic clear, 
No gelding, as you would infer. 
Loss of virility 's averr'd 
T^^ be the cause of loss of beard, tie 



PART II. CANTO I. 169 

That does (like embryo in the womb) 

Abortive on the chin become : 

This first a woman did invent 

In envy of man's ornament, 

Semiramis of Babylon, 715 

Who first of all cut men o' th* stone 

To mar their beards, and laid foundation 

Of sow-geldering operation. 

Look on this beard, and tell me whether 

Eunuchs wear such, or geldings either ? 120 

Next it appears I am no horse, 

That I can argue and discourse. 

Have but two legs, and ne'er a tail. 

Quoth she, That nothing will avail ; 
For some philosophers of late here 125 

Write men have four legs by Nature, 
And that 'tis custom makes them go 
Erroneously upon but two ; 
As 'twas in Germany made good 
B* a boy that lost himself in a wood, 130 

And growing down t' a man, was wont 
With wolves upon all four to hunt. 
As for your reasons drawn from tails, 
We cannot say they're true or false, 
Till you explain yourself and show 735 

B' experiment 'tis so or no. 

Quoth he, If you'll join issue on*t, 
I'll give you sat'sfact'ry accoimt ; 
So you will promise, if you lose. 
To settle all and be my spouse. 741 

VOL. I. 15 



170 HCDIBllAS. 

Tliat never shall be done (quoth she) 
To one that wants a tail, by me ; 
For tails by Nature sure were meant, 
As well as beards, for ornament ; 
And though the vulgar count them homely, 74* 
In men or beast they are so comely, 
So gentce, alamode, and handsome, 
I'll never marry man that wants one : 
And till you can demonstrate plain 
You have one equal to your mane, tm 

I'll be torn piecemeal by a horse 
Ere I'll take you for better or worse. 
The Prince of Cambay's daily food 
Is asp, and basilisk, and toad, 
Which makes him have so strong a breath 755 
Each night he stinks a queen to death; 
Yet I shall rather lie in 's arms 
Than yours on any other terms. 

Quoth he, What Nature can afford 
I shaU produce, upon my word ; 76O 

And if she ever gave that boon 
To man, I'll prove that I have one ; 
I mean by postulate illation, 
When you shall offer just occasion : 
But since y' have yet deny'd to give 765 

My heart, your pris'ner, a reprieve. 
But made it sink down to my heel. 
Let that at least your pity feel ; 
And, for the suff 'rings of your martyr, 
orive its poor entertainer quarter ; 770 



PART II. CANTO I. 171 

And, by discharge or malnprize, grant 
Deliv'ry from this base restraint. 

Quoth she, I grieve to see your leg 
Stuck in a hole here like a peg ; 
And if I knew which way to do't 7H 

(Your honour safe) I'd let you out. 
That dames by jail-delivery 
Of errant knights have been set free, 
When by enchantment they have been, 
And sometimes for it too, laid in ; 78O 

Is that which knights are bound to do 
By order, oath, and honour too. 
For what are they renown'd and famous else, 
But aiding of distressed damosels ? 
But for a lady, no ways errant, IM 

To free a knight, we have no warrant 
In any authentical romance, 
Or classic author yet of France ; 
And I'd be loth to have you break 
.An ancient custom for a freak, 790 

Or innovation introduce 
In place of things of antique use, 
To free your heels by any course 
That might b' unwholesome to your spurs : 
Which, if I should consent unto, 795 

It is not in my pow'r to do ; 
Fw 'tis a service must be done ye 
With solemn previous ceremony, 
Which always has been us'd t' untie 
The charms of those who here do lie, i^oo 



172 HUDIBRAS. 

For as the Ancients heretofore 

To Honour's temple had no dore 

But that which thorough Virtue's lay, 

So from this dungeon there's no way 

To honour'd freedom, but by passing 805 

That other virtuous school of lashing ; 

Where knights are kept in narrow lists 

With wooden lockets 'bout their wrists, 

In which they for a wliile are tenants, 

And for their ladies suffer penance. sio 

Whipping, that 's Virtue's governess, 

Tut'ress of arts and sciences. 

That mends the gross mistakes of Nature, 

And puts new life into dull matter. 

That lays foundation for renown 816 

And aU the honours of the gown. 

This suflfer'd, they are set at large. 

And freed with hon'rable discharge : 

Then, in their robes, the penitentials 

Are straight presented with credentials, sso 

And in their way attended on 

By magistrates of ev'ry town ; 

And, all respect and charges paid. 

They 're to their ancient seats conveyed. 

Now if you '11 venture, for my sake, 121 

To try the toughness of your back. 

And suffer (as the rest have done) 

The laying of a whipping on 

(And may you prosper in your suit, 

As you with equal vigour do't). r.c 



PART II. CANTO I. 173 

I here engage myself to loose ye, 

And free youi* heels from caperdewsie. 

But since our sex's modesty 

Will not allow I should be by, 

Bring me on oath a fair account, ess 

And honour too, when you have done 't ; 

And I'll admit you to the place 

You claim as due in my good grace. 

If matrimony and hanging go 

By dest'ny, why not whipping too ? 840 

What med'eine else can cure the fits 

Of lovers when they lose their wits ? 

Love is a boy by poets styl'd, 

Then spare the rod, and spoil the child. 

A Persian emp'ror whipp'd liis grannam, 846 
The sea, his mother Venus came on ; 
And hence some rev'rend men approve 
Of rosemary in making love. 
As skilful coopers hoop their tubs 
With Lydian and with Phrygian dubs, 8M 

Why may not whipping have as good 
A grace, perform'd in time and mood, 
With comely movement, and by art 
Raise passion in a lady's heart? 
It is an easier way to make 86fi 

Love by, thac that which many take. 
Who would r jt rather suffer whippin, 



V. 8»U Vaj . ' I here engage to be your bayl, 

Aiid free you from the unknightly jayl.' 



174 HUDIBKAS. 

Than swallow toasts of bits of ribbin ? 

Make wicked verses, treats, and faces, 

And spell names over with beer-glasses ? 860 

Be under vows to hang and die 

Love's sacrifice, and all a lye ? 

With china-oranges and tarts. 

And whining plays, lay baits for hearts ? 

Bribe chambermaids with love and money ms 

To break no roguish jests upon ye ? 

For lilies limn'd on cheeks, and roses, 

With painted perfumes hazard noses ? 

Or, vent'ring to be brisk and wanton, 

Do penance in a paper lantern ? no 

All this you may compound for now, 

By suffering what I offer you ; 

Which is no more than has been aone 

By knights for ladies long agone. 

Did not the great La Mancha do so rid 

For the Infanta Del Toboso ? 

Did not th' illustrious Bassa make 

Himself a slave for Misse's sake, 

And with bull's pizzle, for her love, 

Was taw'd as gentle as a glove ? sm 

Was not young Florio sent (to cool 

His flame for Biancafiore) to school. 

Where pedant made his pathic bum 

For her sake suffer martyrdom ? 

Did not a certain lady whip, mi 

Of late, her husband's own lordship ? 

And, though a grandee of the House, 



PAET II. CANTO I. 1^5 

Claw'd him with fundamental blows ; 

Ty'd him stark-naked to a bedpost, 

And jQrk'd his hide as if sh' had rid post ; 890 

And after in the Sessions court, 

Where whipping 's judg'd, had honour for 't ? 

This swear you will perform, and then 

I'll set you from th' enchanted den, 

And the Magician's circle, clear. 89S 

Quoth he, I do profess and swear, 
And will perform what you enjoin, 
Or may I never see you mine. 

Amen (quoth she), then turn'd about, 
And bid her Squire let him out. 900 

But ere an artist could be found 
T' undo the charms another bound. 
The sun grew low and left the skies. 
Put down (some write) by ladies' eyes. 
The moon pull'd off her veil of light, 905 

That hides her face by day from sight 
(Mysterious veil, of brightness made. 
That 's both her lustre and her shade), 
And in the lantern of the night 
"With shining horns hung out her hght ; 910 

For darkness is the proper sphere 
Where all false glories use t' appear. 
The twinkling stars began to muster, 
And glitter with their borrow'd lustre. 
While sleep the weary'd world reHev'd, 9ifi 

V. 894. Var. ' I'U free you.' 



176 HUDIBRAS. 

By counterfeiting death re-^iv'd. 

His whipping penance, till the morn 

Our vot'ry thought it best t' adjourn, 

Aiid not to carry on a work 

Of such importance in the dark, 920 

With erring haste, but rather stay, 

And do 't in th' open face of day ; 

And in the mean time go in quest 

Of next retreat to take his rest. 



PART II. CANTO II. 1/7 



PART II. CANTO II. 

THE ARGUMENT. 

The Kiiight and Squire in hot dispute, 
Within an ace of falling out, 
Are parted with a sudden fright 
Of strange alarm, and stranger sight; 
With which adventuring to stickle, 
They 're sent away in nasty pickle. 

'Tis strange how some men's tempers suit 

(Like bawd and brandy) with dispute ; 

That for their own opinions stand fast, 

Only to have them claw'd and canvast ; 

That keep their consciences in cases, 5 

As fiddlers do their crowds and bases. 

Ne'er to be us'd but when they 're bent 

To play a fit for argument ; 

Make true and false, unjust and just, 

Of no use but to be discust ; lo 

Dispute, and set a paradox 

Like a straight boot upon the stocks, 

.And stretch it more unmercifully 

Than Helmont, Montaigne, White, or Tulljr, 

So th' ancient Stoics, in their porch, 15 

V. 2. Var. ' Brandee.' 

V. 14. Var. * Montaign and Lnlly.* 



178 nUDIBRAS. 

With fierce dispute maintain'd their church, 

Beat out their brains in fight and study 

To prove that virtue is a body, 

That honum is an animal 

Made good with stout polemic brawl ; s« 

In which some hundreds on the place 

Were slain outright, and many a face 

Retrench'd of nose, and eyes, and beard, 

To maintain what their sect averr'd. 

All which the Knight and Squire, in wrath, si 

Had hke t' have suffer'd for their faith ; 

Each striving to make good his own, 

As by the sequel shall be shown. 

The sun had long since in the lap 
Of Thetis taken out his nap, so 

And, like a lobster boil'd, the mom 
From black to red began to turn ; 
When Hudibras, whom thoughts and aking 
'Twixt sleeping kept all night and waking, 
Began to rub his drowsy eyes, si 

And from his couch prepar'd to rise, 
Resolving to dispatch the deed 
He vow'd to do, with trusty speed. 
But first with knocking loud, and bawling, 
He rous'd the Squire in truckle lolling ; 4C 

And after many circumstances, 
Wliich vulgar authors in romances 
Do use to spend their time and wits on, 
To make impertinent description, 
They got (with much ado) to horse, 43 



PART II. CANTO II. 179 

And to the Castle bent their course, 

In which he to the Dame before 

To suffer whipping-duty swore. 

Where now arriv'd, and half unharnest^ 

To carry on the work in earnest, so 

He stopp'd, and paus'd upon the sudden, 

And with a serious forehead plodding, 

Sprung a new scruple in his head. 

Which first he scratch'd and after said, 

Whether it be direct infringing M 

Aji oath, if I should wave this swinging, 

Ajid what I've sworn to bear forbear, 

And so b' equivocation swear ; 

Or whether 't be a lesser sin 

To be forsworn than act the thing, «o 

AlTC deep and subtle points, which must, 

T' inform my Conscience, be discust ; 



V. 48. Var. ' WMpping duly swore.' 

V. 65, 56. This dialogue between Hudibras and Ralph sets 
before us the hypocrisy and villany of all parties of the Rebels 
with regard to oaths ; what equivocations and evasions they 
made use of to account for the many perjuries they were dai- 
ly guilty of, and the several oaths they readily took, and as 
readily broke, merely as they found it suited their interest, as 
appears from v. 107, &c. and v. 377, &c. of this Canto, and 
Part in. Canto in. v. 547, &c. Archbishop Bramhall says, 
" That the hypocrites of those times, though they magnified 
the obligation of an oath, yet in their own case dispensed with 
all oaths, civil, military, and religious. We are now told," 
says he, " that the oaths we have taken are not to be exam- 
ined according to the interpretation of men: No! How then? 
— Surely accordhig to the interpretation of devils." 



180 • HUDIBRAS. 

In which to err a tittle may 

To errors infinite make way : 

And therefore I desire to know 65 

Thy judgment ere we further go. 

Quoth Ralpho, Since you do enjoin it, 
I shall enlarge upon the point ; 
And, for my own part, do not doubt 
Th' affirmative may be made out. 70 

But first, to state the case aright, 
For best advantage of our light : 
And thus 'tis : Whether 't be a sin 
To claw and curry your own skin. 
Greater or less than to forbear, 75 

And that you are forsworn forswear. 
But first o' th' first : The inward man, 
And outward, like a clan and clan, 
Have always been at daggers-drawing, 
Ajid one another clapper-clawing : so 

Not that they really cuff or fence. 
But in a spiritual mystic sense ; 
"Which to mistake, and make 'em squabble 
In literal fray, 's abominable. 
'Tis Heathenish, in frequent use sa 

With Pagans and apostate Jews, 
To offer sacrifice of Bridewells, 
Like modem Indians to their idols ; 
^Lnd mongrel Christians of our times, 
That expiate less wath greater crimes, 9o 

And call the foul abomination 
Contrition and mortification. 



PART II. CANTO If. 181 

Is't not enough we're bniis'd and. kicked 

With sinful members of the Wicked ; 

Our vessels, that are sanctifj'd, 9a 

Profan'd and curry'd back and side ; 

But we must claw ourselves with shameful 

And Heathen stripes, bj their example ? 

Which (were there nothing to forbid it) 

Is impious, because they did it. lOO 

This, therefore, may be justly reckon'd 

A heinous sin. Now to the second : 

That saints may claim a dispensation 

To swear and forswear on occasion, 

I doubt not but it will appear IM 

With pregnant light ; the point is clear. 

Oaths are but words, and words but wind ; 

Too feeble implements to bind ; 

And hold with deeds proportion, so 

As shadows to a substance do. IM 

Then when they strive for place, 'tis fit 

The weaker vessel should submit. 

Although your Church be opposite 

To ours as Blackfriars are to White, 

In rule and order, yet I grant lU 

You are a Reformado saint ; 

And what the saints do claim as due, 

You may pretend a title to. 

But Saints, whom oaths and vows oblige, 

Know little of their privilege ; lao 

Further (I mean) than carrying on 

Some self-advantao-e of their own. 



182 HUDIBRAS. 

For if the devil, to serve his turn, 

Can tell truth, why the saints should scorn, 

When it serves theirs, to swear and lie, isi 

I think there's little reason why : 

Else he *as a greater power than they 

"Which 'twere impiety to say. 

"We're not commanded to forbear, 

Indefinitely, at all to swear ; w 

But to swear idly, and in vain, 

Without self-interest or gain. 

For breaking of an oath, and lying, 

Is but a kind of self-denying, 

A saint-like virtue ; and from hence iti 

Some have broke oaths by Providence : 

Some, to the Glory of the Lord, 

Perjur'd themselves, and broke their word ; 

And this the constant rule and practice 

Of all our late apostles' acts is. i4f 

Was not the cause at first begun 

With perjury, and carried on ? 



V. 136. When it was first moved in the House of Com 
mons to proceed capitally against the King, Cromwell stood 
up and told them, " That if any man moved this with design, 
he should think him the greatest traitor in the world ; but 
Bince Providence and necessity had cast them upon it, he 
Bhould pray to God to bless their counsels." And when he 
kept the King close prisoner in Carisbrook Castle, contrary 
to vows and protestations, he affirmed " The Spirit would not 
iet him keep his word." And when, contrary to the publio 
faith, they murdered him, they pretended they could no* 
resist the motions of the Spirit. 



PART II. CANTO II. 183 

W'ds there iin oath the Godly took, 

But in due time and place they broke ? 

Did we not bring our oaths in first, i4o 

Before our plate, to have them burst, 

And cast in fitter models for 

The present use of Church and War? 

Did not our Worthies of the House, 

Before they broke the peace, break vows? iso 

For, having freed us first from both 

Th' Allegiance and Suprem'cy oath, 

Did they not next compel the nation 

To take, and break the Protestation ? 

To swear, and after to recant, 165 

The Solemn League and Covenant ? 

To take th' Engagement, and disclaim it ; 

Enforc'd by those who first did frame it ? 

Did they not swear, at first, to fight 

For the King's safety, and his right ; leio 

And after march'd to find him out, 

And charg'd him home with horse and foot ; 

But yet still had the confidence 

To swear it was in his defence ? 

Did they not swear to live and die 165 

With Essex, and straight laid him by ? 

If that were all, for some have swore 

As false as they, if they did no more. 

Did they not swear to maintain Law, 

In which that swearing made a flaw ? lee 

For Protestant religion vow. 

That did that vowin": disallow ? 



184 HUDIBRAS. 

For Privilege of Parliament, 

In which that swearing made a rent ? 

And since, of all the three, not one nt 

Is left in being, 'tis well known. 

Did they not swear, in express words, 

To prop and back the House of Lords ; 

And after turn'd out the whole houseful 

Of Peers, as dang'rous and unuseful ? M 

So Cromwell, with deep oaths and vows, 

Swore all the Commons out o' th' House ; 

Vow'd that the Redcoats would disband, 

Ay, marry would they, at their command ; 

And troll'd them on, and swore, and swore, isa 

Till th' Army turn'd them out of door. 

This tells us plainly what they thought. 

That oaths and swearing go for nought, 

And that by them th' were only meant 

To serve for an expedient. 19C 

What was the Public Faith found out for, 

But to slur men of what they fought for ? 

The Public Faith, which ev'ry one 

Is bound t' observe, yet kept by none ; 

And if that go for nothing, why 195 

Should Private Faith have such a tie ? 

Oaths were not purpos'd, more than law, 

To keep the Good and Just in awe. 

But to confine the Bad and Sinful, 

Like mortal cattle in a pinfold. soo 

A Saint 's of th' heav'nly realm a Peer ; 

And as no Peer is bound to swear, 



PAr.T II. CANTO II. 185 

But on the Gospel of his Honour, 

Of which he may dispose, as owner. 

It follows, though the thing be forg'ry sos 

And false, t' affirm it is no perj'ry, 

But a mere ceremony, and a breach 

Of nothing but a form of speech. 

And goes for no more when 'tis took 

Than mere saluting of the Book. 310 

Suppose the Scriptures are of force, 

They're but commissions of course ; 

And Saints have freedom to digress, 

And vary from 'em, as they please ; 

Or misinterpret them by private 915 

Instructions, to all aims they drive at. 

Then why should we ourselves abridge, 

And curtail our oAvn privilege ? 

Quakers (that, like to lanterns, bear 

Their light within 'em) will not swear ; 320 

Their Gospel is an Accidence, 

By which they construe Conscience, 

,ind hold no sin so deeply red. 

As that of breaking Priscian's head 

(The head and founder of their order, 225 

That stirring hats held worse than murder). 

These, thinking they're obliged to troth 

In swearing, will not take an oath : 

Like mules, who if they've not their will 

To keep their own pace stand stock still : 230 

But they are weak, and little know 

Wliat free-born Consciences may do. 
VOL. I. 10 



iSG HUDIBRAS. 

'Tis the temptation of the devil 

That makes all human actions evil : 

For Saints may do the same things by 235 

The Spirit, in sincerity, 

Which other men are tempted to, 

And at the devil's instance do ; 

And yet the actions be contrary, 

Just as the Saints and Wicked vary. tia 

For, as on land there is no beast 

But in some fish at sea 's exprest. 

So in the Wicked there's no vice 

Of which the Saints have not a spice ; 

And yet that thing that's pious in -2-] 5 

The one, in th' other is a sin. 

Is't not ridiculous and nonsense 

A saint should be a slave to Conscience ; 

That ought to be above such fancies. 

As far as above Ordinances ? 350 

She's of the wicked, as I guess 

B' her looks, her language, and her dress : 

And though like constables we search 

For false wares one another's Church ; 

Yet all of us hold this for true, 255 

No faith is to the Wicked due. 

For truth is precious and divine ; 

Too rich a pearl for carnal swine. 

Quoth Hudibras, All this is true : 
Yet 'tis not fit that all men knew j c 

Those mysteries and revelations ; 
And therefore topical evasions 



PART II. CANTO II. 187 

Of subtle turns and shifts of sense, 

Serve best with th' Wicked for pretence : 

Such as the learned Jesuits use, 965 

And Presbyterians, for excuse 

Against the Protestants, when th' happen 

To find their Churches taken napping. 

As thus : A breach of Oath is duple. 

And either way admits a scruple, 270 

And may be ex parte of the maker 

More criminal, than the injur'd taker ; 

For he that strains too far a vow 

Will break it, like an o'erbent bow : 

And he that made, and forc'd it, broke it ; 275 

Not he that for Convenience took it. 

A broken oath is, quatenus oath. 

As sound t' all purposes of troth ; 

As broken laws are ne'er the worse - 

Nay, till they're broken have no force. 380 

Wliat's justice to a man, or la*vs. 

That never comes within their claws ? 

They have no pow'r but to admonish ; 

Cannot control, coerce, or punish, 

Until they're broken, and then touch 385 

Those only that do make 'em such. 

Beside, no engagement is allow'd 

By men in prison made for good ; 

For when they're set at liberty 

They're from th' engagement too set free. 390 

The Rabbins write, When any Jew 

Did make to God or man a vow 



188 nUDIBRAS. 

Which afterwards h^ found untoward 

And stubborn to be kept, or too hard, 

Any three other Jews o' th' nation SM 

]\Iight free him froru the obhgation : 

And have not two Saints pow'r to use 

A greater privilege than three Jews ? 

Tlie court of Conscience, which in man 

Should be supreme and soveran, so< 

Is 't fit should be subordinate 

To ev'rj petty court i' th' state, 

And have less power than the lesser. 

To deal with perjury at pleasure ? 

Have its proceedings disallow'd, or sM 

Allow'd, at fancy of pie-powder ? 

Tell all it does, or does not know, 

For swearing ex officio ? 

Be forc'd t' impeach a broken hedge, 

And pigs unring'd, at vis. franc, pledge ? 3i« 

Discover thieves, and bawds, recusants, 

Priests, witches, eaves-droppers, and nuisanc ** 

Tell who did play at games unlawful. 

And who fill'd pots of ale but half-full ? 

And have no pow'r at all, nor shift, si^ 

To help itself at a dead lift ? 

Why should not Conscience have vacation 

As well as other Courts o' th' nation ; 

Have equal power to adjourn. 

Appoint appearance and return ; 32c 

And make as nice distinction serve 

To split a case, as those that carve, 



PART II. CANTO II. 189 

rnvokiug cuckolds' names, hit joints ? 

Why should not tricks as slight do points ? 

Is not th' High-court of Justice sworn S26 

To just that law that serves their turn ? 

Make their own jealousies high treason, 

And fix 'em whomsoe'er they please on ? 

Cannot the learned Counsel there 

Malte laws in any shape appear ? SM 

Mould 'em as witches do their clay, 

When they make pictures to destroy ; 

And vex 'em into any form 

That fits their purpose to do harm ? 

Rack 'em until they do confess, saa 

Impeach of treason whom they please, 

And most perfidiously condemn 

Those that engage their lives for them ; 

And yet do nothing in their own sense, 

But what they ought by Oath and Conscience ? S40 

Can they not juggle, and with slight 

Conveyance play with wrong and right ; 

And sell their blasts of wind as dear. 

As Lapland witches bottled air ? 

Will not Fear, Favour, Bribe, and Grudge, au 

The same case sev'ral ways adjudge ; 

As seamen with the self-same gale, 

Will several diff 'rent courses sail ? 

As when the sea breaks o'er its bounds, 

And overflows the level grounds, sm 

V. 345. Var. ' Grutch.' 



190 HUDIBRA3. 

Those banks and dams, that, like a screen, 

Did keep it out, now keep it in ; 

So, when tyrannical usurpation 

Invades the freedom of a nation. 

The laws o' th' land, that were intended SM 

To keep it out, are made defend it. 

Does not in Chanc'ry ev'ry man swear 

What makes best for him in his answer ? 

Is not the winding up witnesses. 

And nicking, more than hah* the business ? 860 

For witnesses, like watches, go 

Just as they're set, too fast or slow ; 

And, where in Conscience they're strait-lac'd, 

*Tis ten to one that side is cast. 

Do not your Juries give their verdict sfls 

As if they felt the cause, not heard it ? 

And, as they please, make matter o' fact 

Run all on one side as they're packt? 

Nature has made man's breast no windores, 

To publish what he does within dores ; sti 

Nor what dark secrets there inhabit, 

Unless his own rash folly blab it. 

If Oaths can do a man no good 

In his own bus'ness, why they should, 

In other matters, do him hurt ; 375 

1 think there's little reason for 't. 

He that Imposes an Oath, makes it ; 

Not he that for Convenience takes it : 

V. 353. Var. ' tyrannic' 



PART II. CANTO II. 191 

Then how can any man be said 

To break an oath he never made ? sso 

These reasons may perhaps look oddly 

To th' Wicked, though they evince the Godly ; 

But if they will not serve to clear 

My Honour, I am ne'er the near. 

Honour is like that glassy bubble 88f 

That finds philosophers such trouble, 

Whose least part crackt, the whole does fly, 

And wits are crackt to find out why. 

Quoth Ralpho, Honour's but a word 
To swear by' only in a Lord : 390 

In other men 'tis but a huff 
To vapour with, instead of proof ; 
That, like a wen, looks big and swells, 
Is senseless, and just nothing else. 
Let it (quoth he) be what it will, 395 

It has the world's opinion still. 
But as men are not wise that run 
The slightest hazard they may shun, 
There may a medium be found out 
To clear to all the world the doubt ; ^ 400 

And that is, if a man may do 't, 
By proxy whipt, or substitute. 

Though nice and dark the point appear 
(Quoth Ralph), it may hold up and clear. 
That Sinners may supply the place 405 

Of suff'ring Saints, is a plain case. 
Justice gives sentence many times 
On one man for another's crimes. 



192 HLDIBRAS. 

Our Brethren of New England use 

Choice Malefactors to excuse, 41c 

And hang the Guiltless in their stead, 

Of whom the churches have less need ; 

As lately 't happen'd : In a town 

There liv'd a Cobbler, and but one, 

That out of Doctrine could cut Use, 415 

And mend men's lives as well as shoes. 

This precious Brother having slain 

In times of peace an Indian, 

Not out of malice, but mere zeal 

(Because he was an Infidel), ' 490 

The mighty Tottipottymoy 

Sent to our Elders an Envoy, 

Complaining sorely of the breach 

Of league, held forth by Brother Patch, 

Against the articles in force 4SC 

Between both Churches, his and ours ; 

For which he crav'd the Saints to render 

Into his hands, or hang, th' offender. 

But they, maturely having weigh'd 

They had no more but him o' th' trade iso 

\A man that serv'd them in a double 

Capacity, to teach and cobble), 

Resolv'd to spare liim ; yet, to do 

The Indian Hoghan Moghan too 

Impartial justice, in liis stead did 435 

Hang an old Weaver that was bed-rid. 

Then wherefore may not you be skipp'd, 

And in your room another whipp'd ? 



PART II. CANTO II. 193 

For all philosophers, but the Sceptic, 

Hold whipping may be sympathetic. 44C 

It is enough, quoth Hudibras, 
Thou hast resoiv'd and ciear'd the case ; 
And canst, in Conscience, not refuse 
From thy own Doctrine to raise Use : 
I know thou wilt not (for my sake) 445 

Be tender-conscienc'd of thy back : 
Then strip thee of thy carnal jerkin, 
And give thy outward-fellow a ferking ; 
For when thy vessel is new hoop'd. 
All leaks of sinning will be stopp'd. 4M 

Quoth Ralpho, You mistake the matter; 
For in all scruples of this nature 
No man includes himself, nor turns 
The point upon his own concerns. 
As no man of his own self catches 45s 

The itch or amorous French aches ; 
So no man does himself convince, 
By his own doctrine, of his sins : 
And though all cry down self, none means 
His own self in a literal sense. 465 

Besides, it is not only foppish, 
But vile, idolatrous, and Popish, 
For one man out of his own skin 
To firk and whip another's sin ; 
As pedants out of schoolboys' breeches 4to 

Do claw and curry their own itches. 
But in this case it is profane. 
And sinful too, because in vain ; 



194 HUDIBRAS. 

For we must take our oaths upon it 

You did the deed, when I have done it. 470 

Quoth Hudibras, That's answer'd soon ; 
Give us the whip, we'll lay it on. 

Quoth Ralpho, That we may swear true, 
'Twere properer that I whipp'd you ; 
For when with your consent 'tis done, 478 

The act is really your own. 

Quoth Hudibras, It is in vain 
(I see) to argue 'gainst the grain ; 
Or, like the stars, incline men to 
What they 're averse themselves to do : 48O 

For, when disputes are weary'd out, 
'Tis int'rest still resolves the doubt. 
But since no reason can confute ye, 
I'll try to force you to your duty ; 
For so it is, howe'er you mince it, 48i 

As, ere we part, I shall evince it ; 
And curry (if you stand out), whether 
You will or no, your stubborn leather. 
Canst thou refuse to bear thy part 
I' th' pubhc Work, base as thou art ? 490 

To higgle thus for a few blows, 
To gain thy Knight an op'lent spouse. 
Whose wealth his bowels yearn to purchase 
Merely for th' int'rest of the Churches ? 
And wiien he has it in his claws 495 

Will not be hide-bound to the Cause ; 
Nor shalt thou find him a curmudgin 
If thou dispatch it without grudging : 



PART II. CANTO II. 195 

If not, resolve, before we go. 

That you and I must pull a crow. see 

Y' had best (quoth Ralpho), as the Ancients 
Say wisely. Have a care o' th' main chance, 
And Look before you ere you leap ; 
For As you sow, y' are like to reap : 
And were y* as good as George-a- Green, sos 

I should make l)old to turn agen ; 
Nor am I doubtful of the issue 
In a just quarrel, and mine is so. 
Is 't fitting for a man of honour 
To whip the Saints, like Bishop Bonner ? 510 
A Knight t' usurp the Beadle's office, 
For which y* are like to raise brave trophies ? 
But I advise you (not for fear. 
But for your own sake) to forbear ; 
And for the Churches, which may chance 6ig 

From hence to spring a variance, 
And raise among themselves new scruples. 
Whom common danger hardly couples. 
Remember how in arms and politics 
We still have worsted all your holy tricks ; 520 
Trepann'd your party with intrigue, 
And took your Grandees down a peg ; 
New-modell'd th' army, and cashier'd 
A.11 that to Legion Smec adher'd ; 
Made a mere utensil 0' your Church, su 

And after left it in the lurch, 
A scaffold to build up our own. 
And when w' had done with 't puU'd it down ; 



196 HUDIBIIAS. 

Capoch'd your Rabbins of the Synod, 

And snapp'd their Canons with a Why-not am 

(Grave Synod-men, that were rever'd 

For solid face and depth of beard) ; 

Their Classic model prov'd a maggot, 

Their Direct'ry an Indian pagod ; 

And drown'd their Discipline like a kitten, 586 

On which th' had been so long a-sitting ; 

Decry'd it as a holy cheat 

Grown out of date and obsolete, 

And all the Saints of the first grass 

As castling foals of Balaam's ass. 640 

At this the Knight grew high in chafe, 
And, staring furiously on Ralph, 
He trembled and look'd pale with ire, 
Like ashes first, then red as fire. 
Have I (quoth he) been ta'en in fight, 648 

And for so many moons lain by 't. 
And when all other means did fail 
Have been exchang'd for tubs of ale 
(Not but they thought me worth a ransom 
Much more consid'rable and handsome, sm 

But for their own sakes, and for fear 
They were not safe when I. was there). 
Now to be baffled by a scoundrel. 
An upstart Sect'ry and a Mongrel, 
Such as breed out of peccant humours sse 

Of our own Church, like wens or tumours, 

v. 529. Var. ' O'er-reach'd.' * Capocli'd ' signifies hooded, 
or blindfolded. 



PART II. CAHTO II. 197 

And, like a maggot in a sore, 

Would that which gave it life devour ? 

It never shall be done or said. 

With that he seiz'd upon his blade ; nao 

And Ralpho too, as (juick and bold. 

Upon his basket-hilt laid hold 

With equal readiness, prepar'd 

To draw and stand upon his guard : 

When both were parted on the sudden 666 

With hideous clamour and a loud one, 

As if all sorts of noise had been 

Contracted into one loud din ; 

Or that some member to be chosen 

Had got the odds above a thousand, 570 

And by the greatness of his noise 

Prov'd fittest for his country's choice. 

This strange surprisal put the Knight 

And wrathful Squire into a fright ; 

And though they stood prepar'd, with fatal 675 

Impetuous rancour, to join battle. 

Both thought it was the wisest course 

To wave the fight and mount to horse, 

And to secure by swift retreating 

Themselves from danger of worse beating : 680 

Yet neither of them would disparage. 

By utt'ring of his mind, his courage, 

Which made them stoutly keep their ground, 

With horror and disdain wind-bound. 

And now the cause of all theii' fear sss 

By slow degrees approacli'd so near 



1 98 HUDIBRAS. 

They might distinguish difF'rent noise 

Of horns, and pans, and dogs, and boys. 

And kettle-drums, whose sullen dub 

Sounds like the hooping of a tub. 59c 

But when the sight appear'd in view, 

They found it was an antique shew ; 

A triumph that for pomp and state 

Did proudest Roman's emulate. 

For as the Aldermen of Rome, 595 

Their foes at training overcome • 

(And not enlarging territory. 

As some mistaken write in story). 

Being mounted in their best array 

Upon a car — and who but they ? — eoo 

And foUow'd with a world of tall lads 

That merry ditties troU'd and ballads. 

Did ride with many a Good-morrow, 

Crying, Hey for our town ! through the Borougli ; 

So when this triumph drew so nigh 6O6 

They might particulars descry. 

They never saw two things so pat 

In all respects as this and that. 

First, he that led the cavalcate 

Wore a sow-gelder's flagellate, 610 

On which he blew so strong a levet 

As well-feed lawyer on his brev'ate 

When over one another's heads 

V. 587. Var. ' They might discern respective noise.* 

V. 596. Var. ' For foes.' 

V. 609, 610. Var. ' cavalcade,' ' flagellet/ 



PART II. CANTO II. 199 

They charge (three ranks at once) like Sweads. 

Next pans and kettles of all keys, ei« 

From trebles down to double base ; 

And after them, upon a nag 

That might pass for a forehand stag, 

A cornet rode, and on his staff 

A smock display'd did proudly wave : 620 

Then bagpipes of the loudest drones 

With snuffling broken-winded tones, 

Wliose blasts of air, in pockets shut, 

Sound filthier than from the gut, 

And make a viler noise than swine 625 

In windy weather when they whine. 

Next one upon a pair of panniers, 

Full fraught with that which for good manners 

Shall here be nameless, mix'd with grains, 

Which he dispens'd among the swains, 630 

And busily upon the crowd 

At random round about bestow'd. 

Then, mounted on a horned horse. 

One bore a gauntlet and gilt spurs, 

Ty'd to the pummel of a long sword 635 

He held revers'd, the point turn'd downward. 

Next after, on a raw-bon'd steed. 

The conqu'ror's Standard-bearer rid. 

And bore aloft before the champion 

A petticoat display'd, and rampant ; 64o 

Near whom the Amazon triumphant 

V. 614. Var. ' Swedes.' 



200 HUDIBRAS. 

Bestrid her beast, and on the rump on't 

Sat, face to tail and bum to bum, 

The warrior whilom overcome, 

Arm'd with a spindle and a distaff, 644 

Which as he rode she made him twist off; 

And when he loiter'd, o'er her shoulder 

Chastis'd the reformado soldier. 

Before the Dame and round about 

INIarch'd whifflers and StafRers on foot, 66g 

With lacquies, grooms, valets, and pages, 

Li fit and proper equipages ; 

Of whom some torches bore, some links, 

Before the proud virago minx. 

That was both Madam and a Don, ms 

Like Nero's Sporus or Pope Joan ; 

And at fit periods the whole rout 

Set up their throats with clam'rous shout. 

The Knight transported, and the Squire, 

Put up their weapons and their ire ; mo 

And Hudibras, who us'd to ponder 

On such sights with judicious wonder, 

Could hold no longer to impart 

His an'madversions, for his heart. 

Quoth he, In all my life till now 665 

I ne'er saw so profane a show : 
It is a Paganish invention 
Wliich Heathen writers often mention ; 
And he who made it had read Goodwin, 
Or Ross, or Cnelius Rhodogine, 67f 

With all the Grecian Speeds and Stows 



PART II. CANTO II. 201 

That best describe those ancient shows, 

And has observ'd all fit decorums 

We find describ'd by old historians. 

For as the Roman conqueror 67» 

That put an end to foreign war, 

Ent'ring the town in triumph for it, 

Bore a slave with him in his chariot ; 

So this insulting female brave 

Carries behind her here a slave : 680 

And as the Ancients long ago, 

When they in field defy'd the foe. 

Hung out their mantles delta guerre, 

So her proud Standard-bearer here 

Waves on his spear, in dreadful manner, ess 

A Tyrian petticoat for banner. 

Next links and torches, heretofore 

Still borne before the emperor : 

And, as in antique triumph eggs 

Were borne for mystical intrigues, 698 

There 's one in truncheon, like a ladle, 

That carries eggs too, fresh or addle ; 

And still at random as he goes 

Among the rabble-rout bestows. 

Quoth Ralpho, You mistake the matter; ess 
For all th' antiquity you smatter 
Is but a riding us'd of course 
When The grey mare 's the better horse ; 
When o'er the breeches greedy women 
Fight to extend their vast dominion, tm 

And in the cause impatient Grizel 

VOL. 1. 17 



202 HUDIBRAS. 

Has drubb'd her husband with bull's pizzle, 

And brought him under Covert-baron, 

To turn her vassal with a murrain ; 

When wives their sexes shift, like hares, 70i 

And ride their husbands, like night-mares, 

And they in mortal battle vanquish'd 

Are of their charter disenfranchis'd, 

And by the right of war, like gills, 

Condemn'd to distaff, horns, and wheels : 710 

For when men by their wives are cow'd, 

Their horns of course are understood. 

Quoth Hudibras, Thou still giv'st sentence 
Impertinently, and against sense : 
'Tis not the least disparagement 71s 

To be defeated by th' event. 
Nor to be beaten by main force ; 
That does not make a man the worse, 
Although his shoulders with battoon 
Be claw'd and cudgel'd to some tune. 72« 

A tailor's prentice has no hard 
Measure that 's bang'd with a true yard ; 
But to turn tail or run away. 
And without blows give up the day, 
Or to surrender ere th' assault, 73ft 

That 's no man's fortune, but his fault ; 
And renders men of honour less 
Than all th' adversity of success : 
And only unto such this shew 
Of horns and petticoats is due. 78i 

There is a lesser profanation, 



PART II. CANTO II. 205 

Like tliat the Romans call'd Ovation: 

For as ovation was allow'd 

For conquest purchas'd without blood, 

So men decree those lesser shows 735 

For vict'ry gotten without blows, 

By dint of sharp hard words, which somest 

Give battle with and overcome : 

These mounted in a chair-curule, 

Which Moderns call a Cuckling-stool, 740 

March proudly to the river side. 

And o'er the waves in triumph ride ; 

Like dukes of Venice, who are said 

The Adriatic sea to wed. 

And have a gentler wife than those 746 

For whom the state decrees those shows. 

But both are Heathenish, and come 

From th' Whores of Babylon and Rome, 

And by the Saints should be withstood, 

As antichristian and lewd ; 760 

And we as such should now contribute 

Our utmost strugglings to prohibit. 

This said, they both advanc'd, and rode 
A dog-trot through the bawling crowd 
T' attack the leader, and still prest 768 

Till they approach'd him breast to breast. 
Then Hudibras with face and hand 
Made signs for silence ; which obtain'd : 
What means (quoth he) this devil's procession 
With men of orthodox profession ? 76fl 

Tis etlmique and idolatrous, 



204 HUDIBRAS. 

From Heathenism deriv'd to us. 

Does not the Whore of Bab'lon ride 

Upon her horned Beast astride 

Like this proud Dame, who either is 761 

A type of her, or she of this ? 

Are tMngs of superstitious function 

Fit to be us'd in Gospel sunshine ? 

It is an antichristian opera. 

Much us'd in midnight times of Popery ; 77c 

Of running after self-inventions 

Of wicked and profane intentions ; 

To scandalize that sex for scolding, 

To whom the Saints are so beholden. 

Women, who were our first apostles, 77« 

Without whose aid we 'ad all been lost else ; 

Women, that left no stone unturn'd 

In which the Cause might be concern'd ; 

Brought in their children's spoons and whistles 

To purchase swords, carbines, and pistols ; 78O 

Their husbands' cullies and sweethearts, 

To take the Saints' and Churches' parts ; 

Drew several Gifted Brethren in, 

V. 775. The women were zealous contributors to the Good 
Cause, as they called it. Mr. James Howel observes, " That 
unusual voluntary collections were made both in town and 
vsountry; the seamstress brought in her silver thimble, the 
1: hambermaid her bodkin, the cook her silver spoon, into the 
common treasury of war. — And some sort of females were 
freer in their contributions, so far as to part with their rings 
and earrings, as if some golden calf were to be molten and 
set up to be idohzed." 



PAKT II. CANTO II. 205 

That for tlie Bishops would have been, 

And fix'd 'em constant to the party 78« 

With motives powerful and hearty ; 

Their husbands robb'd, and made hard shifts 

T' administer unto their Gifts 

All they could rap, and rend, and pilfer, 

To scraps and ends of gold and silver ; 790 

Rubb'd down the Teachers, tir'd and spent 

With holding forth for Parl'ament ; 

Pamper'd and edify'd their zeal 

With marrow puddings many a meal ; 

Enabled them, with store of meat, 7«6 

On controverted points to eat ; 

And cramm'd 'em till therr guts did ake 

With caudle, custard, and plum-cake. 

What have they done or what left undone 

That might advance the Cause at London ? soo 

March'd rank and file with drum and ensign, 

T' intrench the City for defence in ; 

Hais'd rampiers with their own soft hands, 

To put the Enemy to stands : 

From ladies down to oyster wenches 80s 

Labour'd like pioneers in trenches, 

Fall'n to their pickaxes and tools. 

And help'd the men to dig like moles. 

Have not the handmaids of the City 

Chose of their Members a Committee, sii 

For raising of a common purse, 

V. 807. Var. ' Fell.' 



206 HUDIBRAS. 

Out of their wages, to raise horse ? 

And do they not as triers sit, 

To judge what officers are fit ? 

Have they — At that an egg let fly sic 

Hit him directly o'er the eye. 

And, running down his cheek, besmeared 

With orange-tawny slime his beard ; 

But beard and slime being of one hue, 

The wound the less appear'd in view. sso 

Then he that on the panniers rode 

Let fly on th' other side a load. 

And, quickly charg'd again, gave fully 

In Ralpho's face another volley. 

The Knight was startled with the smell, su 

And for his sword began to feel; 

And Ralpho, smother'd with the stink, 

Grasp'd his, when one that bore a link 

O' th' sudden clapp'd his flaming cudgel. 

Like linstock, to the horse's touch-hole ; eao 

And straight another with his flambeau 

Gave Ralpho o'er the eyes a damn'd blow. 

The beasts began to kick and fling. 

And fore'd the rout to make a ring ; 

V. 813, 814. " The House considered, in the next place, 
that divers weak persons have crept into places beyond their 
abilities ; and, to the end that men of greater parts may be put 
into their rooms, they appointed the Lady Middlesex, Mrs. 
Dunch, the Lady Foster, and the Lady Anne Waller, by reason 
of their great experience in soldiery in the kingdom, to be r 
Committee of Triers for the business." See " The Parlia 
ment of Ladies," p. 6. 



PART II. CANTO II. 207 

Tlirougli which they quickly broke their way, est 

And brought them off from further fray. 

And though disorder'd in retreat, 

Each of them stoutly kept his seat : 

For quitting both their swords and reins, 

They grasp'd with all their strength the manes, 840 

And, to avoid the foe's pursuit, 

With spurring put their cattle to 't ; 

And till all four were out of wind, 

And danger too, ne'er look'd behind. 

After they 'ad paus'd awhile, supplying 84« 

Their spirits spent with fight and flying. 

And Hudibras recruited force 

Of lungs for action or discourse : 

Quoth he. That man is sure to lose 
That fouls his hands with dirty foes : mo 

For where no honour 's to be gain'd, 
*Tis thrown away in being maintain'd. 
'Twas ill for us we had to do 
With so dishon'rable a foe : 

For though the law of arms doth bar sss 

The use of venom'd shot in war, 
Yet by the nauseous smell and noisom 
Their case-shot savour strong of poison, 
And doubtless have been chew'd with teeth 
Of some that had a stinking breath; 88i 

Else when we put it to the push. 
They had not giv'n us such a brush. 

V. 839. Var. ' Rains.» 



208 HUDIBRAS. 

But as those pultroons that fling dirt 

Do but defile, but cannot hurt j 

So all the honour they have won, 86a 

Or we have lost, is much at one. 

'Twas well we made so resolute 

A brave retreat without pursuit, 

For if we had not, we had sped 

Much worse, to be in triumph led ; 970 

Than which the ancients held no state 

Of man's life more unfortunate. 

But if this bold adventure e'er 

Do chance to reach the widow's ear, 

It may, being destin'd to assert 9j§ 

Her sex's honour, reach her heart : 

And as such homely treats (they say) 

Portend good fortune, so this may. 

Vespasian being daub'd with dirt 

Was destin'd to the empire for 't ; SM 

And from a scavenger did come 

To be a mighty prince in Rome : 

And why may not this foul address 

Presage in love the same success ? 

Then let us straight, to cleanse our wounds, sm 

Advance in quest of nearest ponds ; 

And after (as we first design'd) 

Swear I've perform'd what she enjoin'd. 

V. 868. Var. ' T' avoid pursuit.' 



PART U. CANTO III. 209 



PART II. CANTO III. 

THE ARGUMENT. 

The Knight, with various doubts possest, 

To win the Lady goes in quest 

Of Sidropliel the Rosycrucian, 

To know the Dest'nies' resohition: 

With wliora b'ing met, they both chop lo^c 

About the science astrologic ; 

Till, falling fi'om dispute to fight, 

The Conj'rer's worsted by the Knight. 

Doubtless the pleasure is as great 

Of being cheated, as to cheat ; 

As lookers-on feel most delight 

That least perceive a juggler's sleight, 

Ajid still, the less they understand, • 

The more they' admire his sleight of handi, 

Some with a noise and greasy light 
Aj-e snapt, as men catch larks by night, 
Ensnar'd and hamper'd by the soul, 
As nooses by the legs catch fowl. 10 

Some with a med'cine and receipt 
Are drawn to nibble at the bait ; 
And though it be a two-foot trout, 
Tis with a single hair pull'd out. 

Others believe no voice t' an organ i« 

So sweet as lawyer's in his bar-gown 



210 HUDIBRAS. 

Until with subtle cobweb-cheats 

They're catch'd in knotted law like nets ; 

In which, when once thej are imbrangled, 

The more they stir the more they're tangled ; 30 

And while their purses can dispute, 

There's no end of th' immortal suit. 

Others still gape t' anticipate 
The cabinet-designs of Fate, 
Apply to wizards to foresee ss 

What shall and what shall never be ; 
And, as those vultures do forebode, 
Believe events prove bad or good : 
A flam more senseless than the roguery 
Of old auruspicy and aug'ry, so 

That out of garbages of cattle 
Presag'd th' events of truce or battle ; 
From flight of birds, or chickens' peckmg, 
Success of great'st attempts would reckon : 
Though cheats, yet more intelligible ss 

Than those that with the stars do fribble. 
This Hudibras by proof found true. 
As in due time and place we'll shew : 
For he, with beard and face made clean, 
Being mounted on his steed agen, 40 

(And Ralpho got a-cock-horse too 
Upon his beast, with much ado), 
Advanc'd on for the Widow's house, 
T' acquit himself and pay his vows : 

V. 25. Van ' Run after wizards.' 



PART II. CANTO III. " 211 

When various thoughts began to bustle, i\ 

And with his inward man to justle. 

He thought what danger might accrue, 

If she should find he swore untrue ; 

Or if his Squire or he should fail, 

And not be punctual in their tale, fO 

It might at once the ruin prove 

Both of his honour, faith, and love. 

But if he should forbear to go. 

She might conclude he 'ad broke his vow ; 

And that he durst not now for shame M 

Appear in court to try his claim : 

This was the penn' worth of his thought, 

To pass time, and uneasy trot. 

Quoth he. In all my past adventures 
I ne'er was set so on the tenters, M 

Or taken tardy with dilemma 
That ev'ry way I turn does hem me. 
And with inextricable doubt 
Besets my puzzled wits about : 
For though the Dame has been my bail, •• 

To free me from enchanted jail, 
Tet as a dog, committed close 
For some offence, by chance breaks loose, 
And quits his clog; but all in vain, 
He still draws after him his chain n 

So, though my ankle she has quitted, 
My heart continues still committed ; 
4jid, like a bail'd and mainpriz'd lover, 
Although at large, I am bound over; 



212 HUDIBRAS. 

And when I shall appear in court 75 

To plead my cause and answer for 't, 

Unless the judge do partial prove, 

Wliat will become of me and love ? 

For, if in our account we vary. 

Or but in circumstance miscarry ; m. 

Or if she put me to strict proof. 

And make me pull my doublet off 

To shew, by evident record 

Writ on my skin, I've kept my word, 

How can I e'er expect to have her, m 

Having demurr'd unto her favour ? 

But, faith and love and honour lost. 

Shall be reduc'd t' a Knight o' th' Post? 

Beside, that stripping may prevent 

What I'm to prove by argument, to 

And justify I have a tail. 

And that way too my proof may faiL 

Oh, that I could enucleate. 

And solve the problems of my fate ! 

Or find by necromantic art 91 

How far the Dest'nies take my part ! 

For if I were not more than certain 

To win and wear her and her fortune, 

I'd go no farther in this courtship. 

To hazard soul, estate, and Worship : m 

For though an oath obliges not 

Wliere any thing is to be got 

(As thou liast prov'd), yet 'tis profane 

And sinful when men swear in vain. 



PART II. CANTO III. 213 

Quoth Ralph, Not far from hence doth dwell i06 
A cunning man, hight Sidrophel, 
That deals in Destiny's dark counsels, 
And sage opinions of the Moon sells ; 
To whom all people, far and near, 
On deep importances repair : liO 

When brass and pewter hap to stray, 
And Unen slinks out o' the way ; 
When geese and puUen are seduc'd, 
And sows of sucking pigs are chous'd ; 
When cattle feel indisposition, lit 

And need th' opinion of physician ; 
When murrain reigns in hogs or sheep. 
And chickens languish of the pip ; 
When yest and outward means do fail, 
And have no pow'r to work on ale ; ISO 

When butter does refuse to come. 
And love proves cross and humoursome ; 
To him with questions, and with urine, 
They for discov'ry flock, or curing. 

Quoth Hudibras, This Sidrophel 136 

I've heard of, and should like it well, 
.If thou canst prove the Saints have freedom 
To go to sorc'rers when they need 'em. 

Says Ralpho, There 's no doubt of that; 
Those principles I quoted late iso 

V. 106. William Lilly, tlie famous astrologer of those times, 
who in his yearly almanacks foretold victories for the Parlia- 
ment with as much certainty as the preachers did in theix 
ennons. 



214 HUDIBRAS. 

Prove that the Godly may allege 

For any thing their privilege, 

And to the dev'l himself may go 

If they have motives thereunto : 

For, as there is a war between 135 

The dev'l and them, it is no sin 

If they by subtle stratagem 

Make use of liim, as he does them. 

Has not this present Parl'ament 

A ledger to the devil sent, 14i 

Fully empower'd to treat about 

Finding revolted witches out? 

And has not he, within a year, 

Hang'd threescore of *em in one shire ? 

Some only for not being drown'd, 14a 

And some for sitting above ground. 

Whole days and nights, upon their breeches, 

Not feeling pain, were hang'd for witches ; 

And some for putting knavish tricks 

Upon green geese and turkey-chicks, im 

Or pigs that suddenly deceast 

Of griefs unnat'ral, as he guest ; 

Who after prov'd himself a witch, 

And made a rod for his owa breech. 

Did not the dev'l appear to Martin 155 

Luther in Germany, for certain ? 

And would have gull'd him with a trick. 

But Mart, was too, too politic. 

Did he not help the Dutch to purge, 

At Antwerp, their cathedral church ? lei 



PART II. CANTO III. 



215 



Sing catches to the Saints at Mascon, 

And teil them all they came to ask him? 

Appear in divers shapes to Kelly, 

And speak i' th' Nun of Loudon's belly ? 

Meet with the Parl'ament's Committee, 16S 

At Woodstock, on a pers'nal treaty ? 

At Sarum take a cavalier, 

I' th' Cause's service, prisoner ? 

As Withers in immortal rhyme 

Has register'd to aftertime. no 

Do not our great Reformers use 

This Sidrophel to forebode news ; 

To write of victories next year, 

And castles taken, yet i' th' air ? 

Of battles fought at sea, and ships I7i 

Sunk two years hence the last echpse ? 

A total o'erthrow giv'n the King 

In Cornwall, horse and foot, next Spring? 

And has not he point-blank foretold 

Whats'e'er the Close Committee would ? 180 

Made Mars and Saturn for the Cause ? 

The Moon for fundamental laws ? 

The Ram, the Bull, and Goat, declare 

Against the Book of Conmion Pray'r? 

The Scorpion take the Protestation, tu 

And Bear engage for Reformation ? 

Made all the Royal stars recant, 

Compound, and take the Covenant? 

V. 169. This Withers was a Puritanical officer in the Par- 
liam/jut army, and a great pretender to poetry, as appears 
from his poems enumerated by A. Wood. 



216 HUDIBRAS. 

Quoth Hudibras, The case is clear. 
The Saints may 'mploy a conjurer, i9c 

As thou hast prov'd it by their practice 
No argument like matter of fact is ; 
And Ave are best of all led to 
Men's principles by what they do. 
Then let us straight advance in quest i96 

Of this profound gymnosophist, 
And, as the Fates and he advise, 
Pursue or wave this enterprise. 
This said, he turn'd about his steed, 
And eftsoons on th' adventure rid ; 9eo 

Where leave we him and Ralph awhile, 
And to the conj'rer turn our style, 
To let our reader understand 
What 's useful of him beforehand. 
He had been long t'wards mathematics, aos 

Optics, philosophy, and statics. 
Magic, horoscopy, astrology. 
And was old dog at physiology ; 
But as a dog that turns the spit 
Bestirs himself, and plies his feet siu 

To climb the wheel, but all in vain, 
His own weight brings him down again, 
And still he 's in the self-same place 
Where at his setting out he was ; 
So in the circle of the arts 911 

I>id he advance his nat'ral parts. 
Till falling back still, for retreat. 
Pie fell to juggle, cant, and cheat. 
For as those fowls that live in water 



PART II. CANTO III. 217 

Are never wet, he did but smatter ; SM 

"Whate'er he labour'd to appear, 

His understanding still was clear; 

Yet none a deeper knowledge boasted, 

Since old Hodge Bacon, and Bob Grosted. 

Th' intelligible world he knew, sst 

And all men dream on 't to be true. 

That in this world there 's not a wart 

That has not there a counterpart ; 

Nor can there on the face of ground 

An individual beard be found ttti 

That has not in that foreign nation 

A fellow of the self-same fashion ; 

So cut, so colour'd, and so curFd, 

As those are in th' inferior world. 

He 'ad read Dee's prefaces before 535 

The Dev'l, and Euclid, o'er and o'er ; 



V. 224. Rogei Jacon, commonly called 'Friar Bacon/ 
lived in the reign of our Edward L, and, for some little skill 
he had in the mathematics, was by the rabble accounted 
a conjurer, and had the sottish story of the Brazen Head fa- 
thered upon him by the ignorant Monks of those days. 

lb. Bishop Grosted was Bishop of Lincohi, 20th Henry HI. 
ft. D. 1235. " He was suspected by the clergy to be a conju- 
ler; for wh'ch crime he was deprived by Pope Innocent IV. 
and summoned to appear at Rome." But tliis is a mistake; 
for the Pope's antipathy to him was occasioned by his frankly 
expostulating with him (both personally and by letter) on his 
encroachments upon the EngUsh church and monarchy. He 
Was persecuted by Pope Innocent, but it is not certain that he 
was deprived, though Bale thinks he was. 

V. 235. Dee was a Welshman, and educated at Oxford 

VOL. I. 18 



218 HUDIBRAS. 

And all tli intrigues 'twixt him and Kelly, 

Lascus and th' Emperor, would tell ye : 

But with the moon was more famiUar 

Than e'er was almanack well-wilier ; 24o 

Her secrets understood so clear, 

That some believ'd he had been there; 

Knew when she was in fittest mood 

For cutting corns or letting blood ; 

Wlien for anointing scabs or itches, S45 

Or to the bum applying leeches ; 

When sows and bitches may be spay'd, 

And in what sign best cyder 's made ; 

Whether the wane be, or increase. 

Best to set garlic or sow pease ; 9M 

Who first found out the man i' th' moon, 

That to the Ancients was unknown ; 

How many Dukes, and Earls, and Peers, 

Are in the planetary spheres ; 

Their airy empire, and command ; 2m 

Their sev'ral strengths by sea and land ; 

What factions they 've, and what they drive at 

In pubhc vogue, or what in private ; 

With what designs and interests 

Each party manages contests. sw 

He made an instrument to know 

If the moon shine at full or no ; 

where lie commenced Doctor, and afterwards iravelled into 
foreign psirts in quest of chemistry, &c. 

V. 238. Albertus Lascus, Lasky, or Alasco, Prince PaJatint 
>f Poland, concerned with Dee and Kelly. 



PART II. CANTO III. 219 

That would, as soon as e'er she shone, straight 

Whether 'twere day or night demonstrate ; 

Tell what her d'ameter to an inch is, 263 

And prove that she 's not made of greeen cheese* 

It would demonstrate that the man in 

The moon 's a sea Mediterranean ; 

And that it is no dog nor bitch 

That stands behind him at his breech, 370 

But a huge Caspian sea or lake, 

With arms, which men for legs mistake ; 

How large a gulf his tail composes, 

And what a goodly bay his nose is ; 

How many German leagues by th' scale ms 

Cape Snout 's from Promontory Tail. 

He made a planetary gin. 

Which rats would run their own heads m, 

And come on purpose to be taken. 

Without th' expense of cheese or bacon. aeo 

With lutestrings he would counterfeit 

Maggots that crawl on dish of meat ; 

Quote moles and spots on any place 

O' th' body, by the index face ; 

Detect lost maidenheads by sneezing, sea 

Or breaking wind of dames, or pissing ; 

Cure warts and corns with apph cation 

Of med'cines to th' imagination : 

Fright agues into dogs, and scare 

With rhymes the toothach and catarrh ; 390 

Chase evil spirits away by dint 

Of sickle, horse-shoe, hollow flint ; 



220 aUDIBRAS. 

Spit firo out of a walnut-shell, 

Which made the Roman slaves rebel ; 

And fire a mine in China here spa 

With sympathetic gunpowder. 

He knew whats'ever 's to be known, 

But much more than he knew would own. 

What med'cine 'twas that Paracelsus 

Could make a man with, as he tells us ; aoo 

What figur'd slates are best to make 

On wat'ry surface duck or drake ; 

What bowhng-stones, in running race 

Upon a board, have swiftest pace ; 

Whether a pulse beat in the black aw 

List of a dappled louse's back ; 

If systole or diastole move 

Quickest when he 's in wrath, or love ; 

When two of them do run a race, 

Whether they gallop, trot, or pace ; sio 

How many scores a flea will jump 

Of his own length from head to rump, 

Which Socrates and Chaerephon 

In vain assay'd so long agone ; 

Whether his snout a perfect nose is, «ii 

And not an elephant's proboscis ; 

How many diff 'rent specieses 

Of maggots breed in rotten cheeses ; 

Ajid which are next of kin to those 

Kngender'd in a chandler's nose ; sso 

Or those not seen, but understood. 

That live in vinegar and wood. 



PAllT II. CANTO HI. 221 

A paltry wretch he had, half-starv'd, 
That him iu place of zany serv'd, 
Hight Whachum, bred to dash and draw, 831 

Not wine, but more unwholesome law ; 
To make 'twixt words and lines huge gaps, 
Wide as meridians in maps ; 
To squander paper and spare ink, 
Or cheat men of their words, some think. 830 

From this, by merited degrees. 
He 'd to more high advancement rise, 
To be an under conjurer. 
Or journeyman astrologer : 

His bus'ness was to pump and wheedle, sss 

And men with their own keys unriddle ; 
To make them to themselves give answers. 
For which they pay the necromancers ; 
To fetch and carry' intelligence 
Of whom, and what, and where, and whence, uo 
And all discoveries disperse 
Among th' whole pack of conjurers ; 
What cut-purses have left with them 
For the right owners to redeem, 
And what they dare not vent, find out, ais 

To gain themselves and th' art repute ; 



V. 325. * Whachum,' journeyman to Sidrophel, who yjaa 
one ' Tom Jones, ' a foolish Welshman. In a key to a poem of 
Mr. Butler's, Whachum is said to be one ' Richard Green,' -who 
published a pamphlet of about five sheets of oase ribaldry, 
una calfed ' Hudibras in a snare.' It was printed about the 
j^ear 1667. 



222 HUDIBRAS. 

Draw figures, and schemes, and horoscopes, 

Of Newgate, Bridewell, brokers' shops, 

Of thieves ascendant in the cart, 

And find out all bj rules of art : «» 

Which way a serving-man, that 's run 

With clothes or money away, is gone ; 

Who pick'd a fob at Holding-forth, 

And where a watch for half the worth 

May be redeem'd ; or stolen plate tv 

Restor'd at conscionable rate. 

Beside all this he serv'd his master 

In quality of poetaster. 

And rhymes appropriate could make 

To ev'ry month i' th' almanack ; an 

When terms begin and end could tell, 

With their returns, in doggerel ; 

When the Exchequer opes and shuts, 

And sow-gelder with safety cuts ; 

When men may eat and drink their fill, m 

And when be temp'rate if they will ; 

When use, and when abstain from, vice, 

Figs, grapes, phlebotomy, and spice. 

And as in prison mean rogues beat 

Hemp for the service of the great, «o 

So Whachum beat his dirty brains 

T' advance his master's fame and gains ; 

And, like the devil's oracles. 

Put into dogg'rel rhymes his spells. 

Which, over ev'ry month's blank page sn 

V th' almanack, strange bilks presage. 



PART 11. CANTO III. 223 

He would an elegy compose 

On maggots squeez'd out of his nose ; 

111 Ijric numbers write an ode on 

His mistress eating a black pudden ; tso 

And when imprison'd air escap'd her, 

It puft him with poetic rapture : 

His sonnets charm'd th' attentive crowd, 

By wide-mouth'd mortal troll'd aloud, 

That, circled with his long-ear'd guests, 886 

Like Orpheus look'd among the beasts : 

A carman's horse could not pass by, 

But stood ty'd up to poetry ; 

No porter's burthen pass'd along, 

But serv'd for burthen to his song : 390 

Each window like a pill'ry appears. 

With heads thrust through, nail'd by the ears; 

AU trades run in as to the sight 

Of monsters, or their dear dehght 

The gallow-tree, when cutting purse 8fi 

Breeds bus'ness for heroic verse. 

Which none does hear but would have hung 

T' have been the theme of such a song. 

Those two together long had liVd 
In mansion prudently contriv'd, 408 

Where neither tree nor house could bar 
The free detection of a star ; 
And nigh an ancient obelisk 
Was rais'd by him, found out by Fisk, 

V. 404. Mr. Butler alludes to one ' Fisk,' of whom Lilly 
obsen'Bs, that he was a licentiate in physic, and bom neai 



224 HUDIBRAS. 

On which was written, not in words, 40S 

But hieroglyphic mute of birds, 

Many rare pithy saws concerning 

The worth of astrologic learning : 

From top of this there hung a rope, 

To which he fasten'd telescope, 410 

The spectacles with which the stars 

He reads in smallest characters. 

It happen'd as a boy one night 

Did fly his tarsel of a kite. 

The strangest long- win g'd hawk that flies, 411 

That, Hke a bird of Paradise, 

Or herald's martlet, has no legs. 

Nor hatches young ones, nor lays eggs ; 

His train was six yards long, milk-white, 

At th' end of which there hung a light, 4S0 

Enclos'd in lantern made of paper. 

That far off like a star did appear : 

This Sidrophel by chance espy'd, 

And, with amazement staring wide, 

Bless us ! quoth he, what dreadful wonder 435 

Is that appears in heaven yonder ? 

A comet, and without a beard ! 

Or star that ne'er before appear'd ? 

I'm certain 'tis not in the scrowl 



Framlingham in Suffolk ; was bred at a country-school, and 
designed for the university, but went not tliither, studying 
physic and astrology at home, which afterwards he practise* 
at Colchester; after which he came to Loudon, and practisea 
Uiere. 



PART II. CANTO III. 225 

Of all those beasts, and fish, and fowl, 438 

With wliich, like Indian plantations, 

The learned stock the constellations ; 

Nor those that drawn for signs have bin 

To th' houses where the planets inn. 

It must be supernatural, 48B 

Unless it be that cannon-ball 

That, shot i' th' air point-blank upright, 

Was borne to that prodigious height 

That learn'd philosophers maintain. 

It ne'er came backwards down again, 449 

But in the airy region yet 

Hangs, hke the body of Mahomet ; 

For if it be above the shade 

That by the earth's round bulk is made, 

'Tis probable it may from far 44i 

Appear no bullet, but a star. 

This said, he to his engine flew, 
Plac'd near at hand, in open view. 
And rais'd it till it levell'd right 
Against the glow-worm tail of kite, 460 

Then peeping through. Bless us ! (quoth he) 
It is a planet now, I see ; 
And, if I err not, by his proper 
Figure, that 's like tobacco-stopper. 
It should be Saturn : yes, 'tis clear 456 

Tis Saturn, but what makes him there ? 
He 's got between the Dragon's tail 
And farther leg behind o' th' Whale ; 
Pray Heav'n divert the fatal omen. 



226 nuDiBRAS. 



4M 



For 'tis a prodigy not common, 

And can no less than the world's end, 

Or Nature's funeral, portend. 

With that he fell again to pry 

Through perspective more wistfully, 

When, by mischance, the fatal string, 465 

That kept the tow'ring fowl on wing, 

Breaking, down fell the star. Well shot, 

Quoth Whachum, who right wisely thought 

He 'ad levell'd at a star, and hit it ; 

But Sidrophel, more subtil-witted, 410 

Cry'd out. What horrible and fearful 

Portent is this, to see a star fall ! 

It threatens Nature, and the doom 

Will not be long before it come ! 

When stars do fall, 'tis plain enough 475 

The day of judgment 's not far off; 

As lately 'twas reveal'd to Sedgwick, 

And some of us find out by magic : 



V. 477. William Sedgwick, a whimsical enthusiast, some> 
times a Presbyterian, sometimes an Independent, and at other 
times an Anabaptist ; sometimes a prophet, and pretended to 
foretell things, out of the pulpit, to the destruction of ignorant 
people; at other times pretended to revelations; and, upon 
pretence of a vision that Doomsday was at hand, he retired to 
the house of Sir Francis Russel, in Cambridgeshire ; and find- 
ing several gentlemen at bowls, called iipon them to prepare 
for their dissolution; telling them that he liad lately received 
a revelation that Doomsday would be some day the week fol- 
lowing. Upon which they ever after called him * Doomsday 
Sedgwick.' 



PART II. CANTO III. 227 

Then since the time we have to live 

In this world 's shorten'd, let us strive 480 

To make our best advantage of it, 

And pay our losses with our profit. 

This feat fell out not long before 
The Knight, upon the forenam'd score, 
In quest of Sidrophel advancing, 485 

"Was now in prospect of the mansion ; 
Wliom he discov'ring, turn'd his glass, 
And found far off 'twas Hudibras. 

Wliachum (quoth he), look yonder, some 
To try or use our art are come : 490 

The one 's the learned Knight ; seek out, 
And pump 'em what they come about. 
Wliachum advanc'd with all submiss'ness 
T' accost 'em, but much more their bus'ness : 
He held a stirrup, while the Knight 495 

From leathern Bare-bones did alight ; 
And taking from his hand the bridle, 
Approach'd, the dark Squire to unriddle. 
He gave him first the time o' the day. 
And welcom'd him as he might say : 500 

He ask'd him whence they came, and whither 
Their bus'ness lay ? — Quoth Ralpho, Hither. — 
Did you not lose — Quoth Ralpho, Nay — 
Quoth Whachum, Sir, I meant your way. 
Your knight — Quoth Ralpho, is a lover, soi 

And pains intol'rable doth suffer ; 
F'or lovers' hearts are not their own hearts, 
Nor lights, nor lungs, and so forth downwards.— 



2?8 HUDIBKA3. 

Wliat time — Quoth Ralplio, Sir, too long ; 

Three years it off and on has hung. — ni 

Quoth he, I meant what time o' th' day 'tis. — 

Quoth Ralpho, Between seven and eight 'tis. — 

Wliy then (quoth Whachum) my small art 

Tells me the dame has a hard heart, 

Or ^reat estate. — Quoth Ralph, A jointer, sis 

Which makes him have so hot a mind t' her. — 

Meanwhile the Knight was making water, 

Before he fell upon the matter ; 

Which having done, the Wizard steps in, 

To give him suitable reception ; 62ft 

But kept his bus'ness at a bay, 

Till Whachum put him in the way ; 

Who having now% by Ralpho's light. 

Expounded th' errand of the Knight, 

And what he came to know, drew near, ssfi 

To whisper in the conj'rer's ear, 

Wliich he prevented thus : what was % 

Quoth he, that I was saying last. 

Before these gentlemen arriv'd ? 

Quoth Whachum, Venus you retriev'd, 530 

In opposition with Mars, 

And no benign and friendly stars 

T' allay the effect. Quoth Wizard, So ! 

In Virgo ? Ha ! quoth Whachum, No. 

Has Saturn nothing to do in it ? 59 

One tenth of 's circle to a minute. 

'Tis well, quoth he. — Sir, you'll excuse 

This rudeness I am forc'd to use ; 



PART II. CANTO III. 229 

It is a scheme and face of heaven, 

As th' aspects are dispos'd this even, 5*0 

I was contemplating upon 

When you arriv'd ; but now I've done. 

Quoth Hudibras, if I appear 
Unseasonable in coming here 
At such a time, to interrupt 54i 

Your speculations, which I hop'd 
Assistance from, and come to use, 
'Tis fit that I ask yoflr excuse. 

By no means, Sir, quoth Sidrophel, 
The stars your coming did foretell ; 550 

I did expect you here, and knew, 
Before you spake, your bus'ness too. 

Quoth Hudibras, Make that appear, 
And I shall credit whatsoe'er 
You tell me after, on your word, 555 

Howe'er unlikely or absurd. 

You are in love, Sir, with a widow, 
Quoth he, that does not greatly heed you, 
And for three years has rid your wit 
And passion without drawing bit ; MO 

And now your bus'ness is to know 
If you shall carry her or no. 

Quoth Hudibras, You 're in the right, 
But how the devil you come by 't 
I can't imagine ; for the stars ftM 

I 'm sure can tell no more than a horse ; 
Nor can their aspects (though you pore 
Your eyes out on them) tell you more 



230 HUDIBRAS. 

Than th' oracle of sieve and sheers 

That turns as certain as the spheres: 618 

But if the devil 's of your counsel 

Much may be done, my noble Donzel ; 

And 'tis on his account I come, 

To know from you my fatal doom. 

Quoth Sidrophel, If you suppose, 67« 

Sir Knight, that I am one of those, 
I might suspect, and take th' alarm. 
Your bus'ness is but to inforfti ; 
But if it be, 'tis ne'er the near, 
You have a wrong sow by the ear ; uo 

For I assure you, for my part, 
I only deal by rules of art. 
Such as are lawful, and judge by 
Conclusions of astrology ; 

But for the devil know nothing by him, ms 

But only this, that I defy him. 

Quoth he, Wliatever others deem ye, 
I understand your metonymy ; 
Your words of second-hand intention, 
When things by wrongful names you mention ; 59« 
The mystic sense of all your terms. 
That are indeed but magic charms 
To raise the devil, and mean one thing, 
And that is downright conjuring ; 
And in itself more warrantable oMf 

Than cheat, or canting to a rabble. 
Or putting tricks upon the moon, 
Which by confed'racy are done. 



PART II. CANTO III. 231 

Your ancient conjurers were wont 

To make her from her sphere dismount, eoc 

And to their incantations stoop ; 

They scorn'd to pore through telescope, 

Or idly play at bo-peep with her, 

To find out cloudy or fair weather. 

Which ev'ry almanack can tell 60A 

Perhaps as learnedly and well 

As you yourself. Then, friend, I doubt 

You go the farthest way about. 

Your modern Indian magician 

Makes but a hole in th' earth to piss in, sio 

And straight resolves all questions by 't, 

And seldom fails to be i' th' right. 

The Rosycrucian way 's more sure 

To bring the devil to the lure ; 

Each of 'em has a sev'ral gin 615 

To catch intelligences in. 

Some by the nose with fumes trepan 'em, 

As Dunstan did the devil's grannam ; 

Others with characters and words 

Catch 'em, as men in nets do birds ; 630 

And some with symbols, signs, and tricks, 

Engrav'd in planetary nicks, 

With their own influences will fetch 'em 

V. 61h. St. Dunstan was made Archbishop of Canterbury 
anno 961. His skill in the liberal arts and sciences (qualifica- 
tions much above the genius of the age he lived in) gained 
him first the name of a Conjurer, and then of a Saint : he is 
revered as such by the Romanists, who keep a holiday in 
honour of him yearly, on the 19th of May. 



232 HUDIBRAS. 

Down from their orbs, arrest, and catch 'em : 

Make 'em depose and answer to 63s 

All questions ere they let them go. 

Bumbastus kept a devil's bird 

Shut in the pummel of his sword, 

That taught him all the cunning pranks 

Of past and future mountebanks. 68i 

Kelly did all his feats upon 

The devil's looking-glass, a stone, 

Where, playing with him at bo-peep, 

He solv'd all problems, ne'er so deep. 

Agrippa kept a Stygian pug eas 

I' th' garb and habit of a dog, 

That was his tutor, and the cur ' 

Read to th' occult philosopher. 

And taught him subt'ly to maintain 

All other sciences are vain. 640 

To this quoth Sidrophello, Sir, 
Agrippa was no conjurer, 

V. 631. This Kelly was chief seer, or, as Lilly calls him, 
Speculator, to Dr. Dee ; was bom at Worcester, and bred an 
apothecary, and was a good proficient in chemistry, and pre- 
tended to have the grand elixir, or philosopher's stone, which 
Lilly tells us he made, or at least received ready made from a 
Friar in Germany, on the confines of the Emperor's dominions. 
We pretended to see apparitions in a crystal or beryl looking- 
glass (or a round stone like a crystal). Alasco, Palatine of 
Poland ; Pucel, a learned Florentine ; and Prince Kosemberg 
of Germany, the Emperor's Viceroy in Bohemia; were long 
of the society with him and Dr. Dee, and often present at 
their apparitions, as was once the King of Poland liimselC 
But Lilly observes that he was so wicked that the angels 
would not appear to hira wilUngly, nor be obedient to him. 



PART II. CANTO III. 233 

Nor Paracelsus, no, nor Belimen ; 

Nor was the dog a cacodsemon. 

But a true dog, that would shew tricks «4i 

For th' Emperor, and leap o'er sticks ; 

Would fetch and carry, was more civil 

Than other dogs, but yet no devil ; 

And whatsoe'er he 's said to do, 

He went the self-same way we go. 6m 

As for the Rosy cross philosophers. 

Whom you will have to be but sorcerers, 

What they pretend to is no more 

Than Trisraegistus did before, 

Pythagoras, old Zoroaster, «M 

And ApoUonius their master. 

To whom they do confess they owe 

All that they do, and all they know. 

Quoth Hudibras, Alas ! what is 't t' us 
Whether 'twas said by Trismegistus, mo 

If it be nonsense, false, or mystic, 
Or not intelligible, or sophistic ? 
'Tis not antiquity, nor author. 
That makes truth Truth, although Time's daughter; 
'Twas he that put her in the pit 665 

Before he puU'd her out of it ; 
And as he eats his sons, just so 
He feeds upon his daughters too. 
Nor does it follow, 'cause a herald 
Can make a gentleman, scarce a year old, i'Q 

V. 669, 670. Such gentry were Thomiis Pury, the elder, 
first a weaver in (Jiloucester, Mieu an ignorant solicitor; John 
VOL. I. lt» 



234 HU1»IBRAS. 

To be descended of a race 
Of ancient kings in a small space, 
That we should all opinions hold 
Authentic that we can make old. 

Quoth Sidrophel, it is no part 675 

Of prudence to cry down an art, 
And what it may perform deny 
Because you understand not why 
(As Averrhois play'd but a mean trick 
To damn our whole art for eccentric) ; esc 

For who knows all that knowledge contains ? 
Men dwell not on the tops of mountains. 
But on their sides or rising's seat ; 
So 'tis with knowledge's vast height. 
Do not the hist'ries of all ages esa 

Relate miraculous presages 
Of strange turns in the world's affairs 
Foreseen b' astrologers, soothsayers, 
Chaldeans, learn'd Genethliacks, 
And some that have writ almanacks ? 690 

The Median Emp'ror dream'd his daughter 

Blackston, a poor shopkeeper of Newcastle ; John Birch, for- 
merly a carrier, afterwards Colonel; Richard Sal way, Colonel, 
formerly a grocer's man; Thomas Rainsborough, a skipper of 
Lynn, Colonel and Vice- Admiral of England ; Colonel Thomas 
Scot, a brewer's clerk ; Colonel Philip Skippon, originally a 
waggoner to Sir Francis Vere ; Colonel John Jones, a serving- 
uan ; Colonel Barkstead, a pitiful tliimble and bodkin gold- 
smith; Colonel Pride, a foundling and di'ayman; Colonel 
Hewson, a one-eyed cobbler; and Colonel Harrison, a butcher 
These and hundreds more affected to be thought gentlemea 
?ind lorded it over persons of the first rank and quality. 



PART II. CANTO III. 235 

Flad pias'd all Asia under water, 

And that a vine, sprung from her haunches, 

O'erspread his empii-e with its branches ; 

And did not soothsayers expound it «M 

As after by th* event he found it ? 

When Csesar in the senate fell, 

Did not the sun eclips'd foretell. 

And in resentment of his slaughter 

Look'd pale for almost a year after ? 109 

Augustus having, by' oversight, 

Put on his left shoe 'fore his right, 

Had like to have been slain that day 

By soldiers mutin'ing for pay. 

Are there not myriads of this sort 70f 

Which stories of all times report ? 

Is it not ominous in all countries 

When crows and ravens croak upon trees ? 

The Roman senate, when within 

The city walls an owl was seen, 110 

Did cause their clergy, with lustrations 

(Our Synod calls Humiliations), 

The round-fac'd prodigy t' avert 

From doing town or country hurt. 

And if an owl have so much pow'r. iu 

Why should not planets have much more, 

That in a region far above 

Inferior fowls of the air move. 

And should see further, and foreknow 

More than their augury below? 7W 

Thougli that once serv'd the polity 



236 HUDIBRAS. 

Of mighty states to govern by ; 

Aiid this is what we take in hand 

By pow'rful art to understand ; 

Which how we have perform'd all ages rai 

Can speak th' events of our presages. 

Have we not lately in the moon 

Found a new world, to th' old unknown ? 

Discover'd sea and land Columbus 

And Magellan could never compass ? 786 

Made mountains with our tubes appear, 
And cattle grazing on 'em there ? 

Quoth Hudibras, You lie so ope 
That I, without a telescope 

Can find your tricks out, and descry 185 

Where you tell truth and where you lye : 

For Anaxagoras, long agon, 

Saw hills, as well as you, 1' th' moon. 

And held the sun was but a piece 

Of red-hot ir'n as big as Greece ; 740 

Believ'd the heav'ns were made of stone, 

Because the sun had voided one ; 

And, rather than he would recant 

Th' opinion, sufFer'd banishment. 

But what, alas ! is it to us 745 

Whether i' th' moon men thus or thus 
Do eat their porridge, cut their corns, 
Or whether they have tails or horns ? 
What trade from thence can you advance 
But what we nearer have from France ? ^5 

What can our travellers bring home 



PART II. CANTO HI. 237 

That is not to be learnt at Rome ? 

What politics or strange opinions 

That are not in our own dominions ? 

What science can be brought from thence 755 

In which we do not here commence? 

What revelations or religions 

That are not in our native regions ? 

Are sweating-lanterns or screen-fans 

Made better there than th' are in France ? reo 

Or do they teach to sing and play 

O' th' guitar there a newer way ? 

Can they make plays there that shall fit 

The public humour with less wit ; 

Write wittier dances, quainter shows, 166 

Or fight with more ingenious blows ? 

Or does the man i' th' moon look big. 

And wear a huger periwig ? 

Shew in his gate or face more tricks 

Than our own native lunatics ? 110 

But if w' outdo him here at home, 

What good of your design can come ? 

As wind i' th' hypocondres pent 

Is but a blast if downward sent. 

But if it upward chance to fly Tfi 

Becomes new hght and prophecy ; 

So when your speculations tend 

Above their just and useful end. 

Although they promise strange and great 

Discoveries of things far fet, TM 

They are but idle dreams and fancies, 



238 HtjDIBRAS. 

And savour strongly of the ganzas. 

Tell me but what 's the natural cause 

"VVliy on a sign no pamter draws 

The full-moon ever, but the half? "Ba 

Resolve that with your Jacob's staff; 

Or why wolves raise a hubbub at her, 

And dogs howl when she shines in water? 

And I shall freely give my vote 

You may know something more remote. 7M 

At this deep Sidrophel look'd wise, 
And, staring round with owl-like eyes, 
He put his face into a posture 
Of sapience, and began to bluster ; 
For having three times shook his head, tm 

To stir his wit up, thus he said : 
Art has no mortal enemies 
Next ignorance, but owls and geese ; 
Those consecrated geese in orders 
That to the capitol were warders, 8M 

And, being then upon patrol, 
With noise alone beat off the Gaul, 
Or those Athenian sceptic owls 
That will not credit their own souls, 
Or any science understand tos 

Beyond the reach of eye or hand. 
But, meas'ring all things by their own 
Knowledge, hold nothing 's to be known ; 
Those wholesale critics, that in coffee- 
Houses cry down all philosophy, git 

And will not know upon what ground 



PART II. CANTO III. 239 

In Nature we our doctrine found, 

Although with pregnant evidence 

We can demonstrate it to sense, - 

As I just now have done to you, $u 

Foretelling what you came to know. 

Were the stars only made to light 

Robbers and burglarers by night ? 

To wait on drunkards, thieves, gold-finders, 

And lovers solacing behind doors, sso 

Or giving one another pledges 

Of matrimony under hedges ? 

Or witches simpling, and on gibbets 

Cutting from malefactors snippets, 

Or from the pill'ry tips of ears SM 

Of rebel saints and perjurers ? 

Only to stand by and look on. 

But not know what is said or done ? 

Is there a constellation there 

That was not born and bred up here, sso 

And therefore cannot be to learn 

In any inferior concern ? 

Were they not, during all their lives, 

Most of them pirates, whores, and thieves ? 

And is it like they have not stiU 8M 

In their old practices some skill ? 

Is there a planet that by birth 

Does not derive its house from earth. 

And therefore probably must know 

What is and hath been done below ? 840 

Who made the Balance, or whence came 



240 HUDIBRAS. 

The Bull, the Lion, and the Ram ? 

Did not we here the Argo rig, 

Make Berenice's periwig ? 

Whose liv'ry does the Coachman wear ? 845 

Or who made Cassiopeia's chair ? 

And therefore, as they came from hence, 

With us may hold intelligence. 

Plato deny'd the world can be 

Govern'd without geometry mo 

(For money b'ing the common scale 

Of things by measure, weight, and tale, 

In all th' affairs of church and state 

*Tis both the balance and the weight) ; 

Then much less can it be without 856 

Divine astrology made out. 

That puts the other down in worth 

As far as heaven 's above the earth. 

These reasons (quoth the knight) I grant 
Are something more significant 860 

Than any that the learned use 
Upon this subject to produce ; 
And yet th' are far from satisfactory 
T' establish and keep up your factory. 
Th' Egyptians say, the sun has twice 88i 

Shifted his setting and his rise ; 
Twice has he risen in the west, 
As many times set in the east : 
But whether that be true or no 
The devil any of you know. sTi 

Some hold the heavens, like a top, 



PART II. CANTO III. 241 

Are kept by circulation up, 

And, were 't not for their wheeling round, 

They 'd instantly fall to the ground ; 

As sage Empedocles of old, «|i 

And, from him, modern authors hold. 

Plato believ'd the sun and moon 

Below all other planets run. 

Some Mercury, some Venus, seat 

Above the sun himself in height. Mt 

The learned Scaliger complain'd, 

'Gainst what Copernicus maintain'd, 

That, in twelve hundred years and odd, 

The sun had left its ancient road, 

Ajid nearer to the earth is come Mf 

'Bove fifty thousand miles from home ; 

Swore 'twas a most notorious flam, 

And he that had so little shame 

To vent such fopperies abroad 

Deserv'd to have his rump well claw'd ; sm 

Which Monsieur Bodin hearing, swore 

That he deserv'd the rod mwh more 

That durst upon a truth give doom 

He knew less than the Pope of Rome. 

Cardan believ'd great states depend mi 

Upon the tip o' th' Bear's tail's end. 

That, as she whisk'd it t' wards the sun, 

Btrew'd mighty empires up and down 



V. 873. Van ' And, 'twere not.' 

y. 894. Var. ' He knew no more, &e. 



242 HUDIBRAS. 

Which others sa)^ must needs be false, 

Because your true bears have no tails. 9M 

Some say the Zodiac constellations 

Have long since chang'd their antique stations 

Above a sign, and prove the same 

Li Taurus now, once in the Ram ; 

Affirm the Trigons chopp'd and chang'd, 90* 

The wat'ry with the fiery rang'd : 

Then how can their effects still hold 

To be the same they were of old? 

This, though the art were true, would make 

Our modern soothsayers mistake, tio 

And is one cause they tell more lies 

In figures and nativities 

Than th' old Chaldean conjurers 

In so many hundred thousand years ; 

Beside their nonsense in translating, mi 

For want of Accidence and Latin, 

Like Idus and Calendae, Englisht 

The Quarter-days by skilful linguist : 

And yet with canting, sleight, and cheat, 

'Twill serve their turn to do the feat ; 93 

IMake fools believe in their foreseeing: 

Of things before they are in being ; 

To swallow gudgeons ere they 're catch'd. 

And count their chickens ere they 're hatch'd ; 

V. 901. Var. ' Some say the stars i' th' Zodiac 

Are more than a whole sign gone back 
Suice Ptolemy; and prove the same 
In Taurus now, then m the Ram.' 



PART II. CANTO III. 243 

Make them the constellations prompt, «36 

And give them back their own accompt ; 

But still the best to him that gives 

The best price for 't, or best believes. 

Some towns, some cities, some, for brevity, 

Have cast the versal world's nativity, 930 

And made the infant-stars confess. 

Like fools or children, what they please. 

Some calculate the hidden fates 

Of monkeys, puppy-dogs, and cats ; 

Some running-nags and fighting-cocks ; nB 

Some love, trade, law-suits, and the pox ; 

Some take a measure of the lives 

Of fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, 

Make opposition, trine, and quartile, 

Tell who is barren and who fertile. 940 

As if the planet's first aspect 

The tender infant did infect 

In soul and body, and instill 

All future good and future ill ; 

Which, in their dark fatal'ties lurking, 945 

At destin'd periods fall a-working, 

And break out, like the hidden seeds 

Of long diseases, into deeds, 

In friendships, enmities, and strife, 

And all th' emergencies of life : 966 

No sooner does he peep into 

The world but he has done his do, 

Catch'd all diseases, took all physic 

That cures or kills a man that is sick, 



244 HUDIBllAS. 

JMarry'd Ms punctual dose of wives, Mi 

Is cuckolded, and breaks or thrives. 

There 's but the twinkUng of a star 

Between a man of peace and war, 

A thief and justice, fool and knave, 

A huffing officer and a slave, 960 

A crafty lawyer and pick-pocket, 

A great philosopher and a blockhead, 

A formal preacher and a player, 

A learn'd physician and man-slayer ; 

As if men from the stars did suck Mfi 

Old age, diseases, and ill-luck. 

Wit, folly, honour, virtue, vice. 

Trade, travel, women, claps, and dice, 

And draw, with the first air they breathe, 

Battle and murder, sudden death. vi% 

Are not these fine commodities 

To be imported from the skies, 

And vended here among the rabble 

For staple goods and warrantable ? 

Like money by the Druids borrow'd, ot 

In th' other world to be restored. 

Quoth Sidrophel, To let you know 
You wrong the art and artists too, 
Since arguments are lost on those 
That do our principles oppose, 961 

I will (although I Ve done 't before) . 
Demonstrate to your sense once more, 

V. 956. Var. * Cookolded.* 



PART II. CANTO III. 245 

And draw a figure that shall tell you 

"What you perhaps forget befell you, 

By way of horary inspection, AM 

Which some account our worst erection. 

With that he circles draws and squares, 

With ciphers, astral characters. 

Then looks 'em o'er to understand 'em. 

Although set down hab-nab at random. 990 

Quoth he. This scheme of th' heavens set 
Discovers how in fight you met 
At Kingston with a May-pole idol, 
And that y' were bang'd both back and side well; 
And, though you overcame the Bear, 9M 

The dogs beat you at Brentford fair, 
Where sturdy butchers broke your noddle, 
And handled you Hke a fop-doodle. 

Quoth Hudibras, I now perceive 
You are no conj'rer : by your leave : loeo 

That paltry story is untrue, 
And forg'd to cheat such gulls as you. 

Not true ! quoth he ; Howe'er you vapour, 
I can what I affirm make appear ; 
Whachum shall justify 't t' your face, looi 

And prove he was upon the place: 
He play'd the saltinbancho's part, 
Tiansform'd t' a Frenchman by my art ; 
He stole your cloak, and pick'd your pocket, 
Chous'd and caldes'd you like a blockhead, loio 

V. 1010. Var. ' Caldes'd.' Put the fortune-teller on him 



246 HUDIBRAS. 

And what you lost I can produce, 
Jf you deny it, here i' th' house. 

Quoth Hudibras, I do beheve 
That argument 's demonstrative ; 
Ralpho, bear witness, and go fetch us lois 

A constable to seize the wretches : 
For though th' are both false knaves and cheats, 
Impostors, jugglers, counterfeits, 
I '11 make them serve for perpendic'lars 
As true as e'er were us'd by bricklayers. loso 

They 're guilty by their own confessions, 
Of felony, and at the Sessions, 
Upon the bench, I will so handle 'em. 
That the vibration of this pendulum 
Shall make all tailors' yards of one iom 

Unanimous opinion ; 
A thing he long has vapour'd of. 
But now shall make it out by proof. 

Quoth Sidrophel, I do not doubt 
To find friends that will bear me out ; loss 

Nor have I hazarded my art 
And neck so long on the State's part 
To be expos'd i' th' end to suffer 
By such a braggadocio buffer. 

Huffer ! quoth Hudibras, this sword los* 

Shall down thy false throat cram that word. 
Ralpho, make haste, and call an officer 
To apprehend this Stygian sophister ; 
Meanwhile T '11 hold 'em at a bay, 
Lest he and Whachum run away. i04c 



PART II. CANTO in. 



247 



But Sidrophel, wlio from th' aspect 
Of Hudibras did now erect 
A. figure worse portending far 
Than that of most malignant star, 
Believ'd it now the fittest moment 1045 

To shun the danger that might come on 't, 
While Hudibras was all alone, 
And he and Whachum two to one. 
This being resolv'd, he spy'd by chance 
Behind tho door an iron lance, 1050 

That many a sturdy limb had gor'd. 
And legs, and loins, and shoulders bor'd ; 
He snatch'd it up, and made a pass 
To make his way through Hudibras. 
Wliachum had got a fire-fork, loeo 

With which he vow'd to do his work ; 
But Hudibras was well prepar'd. 
And stoutly stood upon his guard : 
He put by Sidrophello's thrust. 
And in right manfully he rusht ; lOM 

The weapon from his gripe he wrung, 
And laid him on the earth along. 
Whachum his sea-coal prong threw by, 
And basely turn'd his back to fly ; 
But Hudibras gave him a twitch, lOM 

As quick as lightning, in the breech, 
Just in the place where honour *s lodg'd, 
As wise philosophers have judg'd. 
Because a kick in tliat place more 
Hurts honour than deep wounds before. i070 



218 HUDIBRAS. 

Quoth Hudibras, The stars determiae 
You are my prisoners, base vermine : 
Could they not tell you so, as well 
As what I came to know foretell ? 
By this what cheats you are we find, iws 

That in your own concerns are blind. 
Your lives are now at my dispose, 
To be redeem'd by fine or blows ; 
But who his honour would defile 
To take or sell two lives so vile ? iom 

I 'U give you quarter ; but your piUage, 
The conqu'ring warrior's crop and tillage 
Which with his sword he reaps and plows, 
That 's mine, the law of arms allows. 

This said in haste, in haste he fell i085 

To rummaging of Sidrophel. 
First he expounded both his pockets. 
And found a watch, with rings and lockets, 
Which had been left with him t' erect 
A figure for, and so detect ; 1000 

A copper-plate, with almanacks 
Engrav'd upon 't, with other knacks 
Of Booker's, Lilly's, Sarah Jimmers*, 
And blank schemes to discover nimmers ; 

V. 1093. John Booker was bom in Manchester, and was a 
famous astrologer in the time of the civil wars. He was a 
great acquaintance of Lilly's; and so was this Sarah Jimmers, 
whom Lilly calls ' Sarah Shelhorn,' a great speculatrix. -He 
owns he was^vnery femriisir^ith her -('quod nota'), so tha* 
it is no wonder that the Knight found several of their ki.ick 
knacks in Sidrophel's cabinet. 



PARI II. CANTO III. 



m 



A. moon-dial, with Napier's bones, 

And several constellation-stones, 

Engrav'd in planetary hours, 

That over mortals had strange powers 

To make them thrive in law or trade, 

And stab or poison to evade, iioo 

In wit or wisdom to improve, 

And be victorious in love. 

Whachum had neither cross nor pile, 

His plunder was not worth the whUe. 

All which the conqu'ror did discompt, not 

To pay for curing of his rump. 

But Sidrophel, as full of tricks 

As Rota-men of poUtics, i 

Straight cast about to overreach 

Th' unwary conqu'ror with a fetch, iiu 

And make him glad at least to quit 

His victory, and fly the pit, 

Before the secular prince of darkness 

Arriv'd to seize upon his carcass : 

And as a fox, with hot pursuit iii» 

Chas'd through a warren, casts about 

To save his credit, and among 

Dead vermine on a gallows hung. 

And while the dogs run underneath, 

Escap'd (by counterfeiting death), lUO 

Not out of cunning, but a train 

Of atoms justling in his brain, 

As learn 'd philosophers give out; 

So Sidrophello cast about, 

VOL. I. 20 



250 HUDIBRAS. 

And fell t' his wonted trade again iiia 

To feign himself in earnest slain. 

First stretch'd out one leg, then another, 

And, seeming in his breast to smother 

A broken sigh ; quoth he, Where am I ? 

Ahve or dead? or which way came I ii30 

Through so immense a space so soon ? 

But now I thought myself i' th' moon, 

And that a monster, with huge whiskers 

More formidal)le than a Switzer's, 

My body through and through had drill'd, ii3S 

And Whachum by my side had kill'd ; 

Had cross-examin'd both our hose. 

And plunder'd all we had to lose : 

Look ! there he is ! I see him now, 

And feel the place I am run through ! 1140 

And there lies Whachum by my side 

Stone dead, and in his own blood dy'd ! 

Oh ! oh ! — With that he fetch'd a groan, 

And fell again into a swoon, 

Shut both his eyes, and stopp'd his breath, 1 145 

And to the life outacted death, 

That Hudibras, to all appearing, 

Believ'd him to be dead as herring. 

He held it now no longer safe 

To tarry the return of Ralph, iiao 

But rather leave him in the lurch : 

Thought he, He has abus'd our Church, 

Refus'd to give himself one iirk 

To carry on the Public Work ; 



PART II. CANTO III. 251 

Despis'd our Sjnod-meii like dirt, 1155 

And made their discipline his sport ; 

Divulg'd the secrets of their Classes, 

And their Conventions prov'd high-places ; 

Disparag'd their tithe-pigs as Pagan, 

And set at nought their cheese and bacon ; 1160 

Rail'd at their Covenant, and jeer'd 

Their rev'rend Parsons to my beard ; 

For ^ which scandals to be quit 

At once this juncture falls out fit. 

I '11 make him henceforth to beware, lies 

And tempt my fury if he dare : 

He must at least hold up his hand. 

By twelve freeholders to be scann'd, 

Who, by their skill in palmistry. 

Will quickly read his destiny, 1170 

And make him glad to read his lesson, 

Or take a turn for 't at the Session, 

Unless his Light and gifts prove truer 

Than ever yet they did, I 'm sure : 

For if he *scape with whipping now, in» 

'Tis more than he can hope to do ; 

And that will disengage my Conscience 

Of th' obligation, in his own sense. 

I '11 make him now by force abide, 

What he by gentle means deny'd, 118O 

To give my honour satisfaction. 

And right the Brethren in the action. 

This being resolv'd, with equal speed 

And conduct he approach'd his steed, 



252 HITDIBRAS. 

And, with activity unwont, 

Assaj'd the lofty beast to mount ; lies 

Which once achieved, he spurr'd his palfiy 

To get from th' enemy and Ralph free ; 

Left dangers, fears, and foes behind. 

And beat at least three lengths the wind. iim 



HUDIBRAS TO SIDROPHEL. 253 



AN HEROICAL EPISTLE* 

OP HUDIBRAS TO SIDROPHEL. 

Ecce iterum Crispinus. ... 

Well, Sidrophel, though 'tis in vain 

To tamper with your crazy brain, 

Without trepanning of your scull 

As often as the moon 's at full, 

'Tis not amiss, ere y' are giv'n o'er, s 

To try one desp'rate med'cine more ; 

For where your case can be no worse 

The desp'rat'st is the wisest course. 

Is 't possible that you, whose ears 

Are of the tribe of Issachar's, lO 

And might (with equal reason) either 

* This Epistle was published ten years after the Third 
Canto of the Second Part, to which it is now annexed, name- 
ly, in the year 1674 ; and is said, in a Key to a Burlesque 
Poem of Mr. Butler's, published 1706, p. 13, to have been 
occasioned by Sir Paul Neai, a conceited virtuoso, and 
member of the Royal Society, who constantly affirmed that 
Mr. Butler was not the author of Hudibras, which gave rise to 
this Epistle; and by some he has been taken for the real Sidro 
phel of the poem. This was the gentleman, who, I am told, 
made a great discovery of an elephant m the moon, which, 
upon examination, proved to be no other than a mouse which 
had mistaken its way, and got into Ids telescope. See ' The 
Elephant in the Moon, ' vol. ii. 



254 HUDIBRAS TO SIDROPHEL. 

For merit or extent of leather, 

"With William Pryn's, before they were 

Retrench'd and crucify'd, compare, 

Should yet be deaf against a noise lo 

So roaring as the public voice ? 

That speaks your virtues free and loud, 

And openly in every crowd, 

As loud as one that sings his part 

T' a wheelbarrow or turnip-cart, 15 

Or your new nick-nam'd old invention 

To cry green bastings with an engine 

(As if the vehemence had stunn'd 

And torn your drum-heads with the sound) ; 

And 'cause your folly 's now no news, ss 

But overgrown and out of use, 

Persuade yourself there 's no such matter, 

But that 'tis vanish'd out of Nature ; 

When Folly, as it grows in years. 

The more extravagant appears ; as 

For who but you could be possest 

With so much ignorance and beast. 

That neither all men's scorn and hate, 

Nor being laugh'd and pointed at. 

Nor bray'd so often in a mortar, u 

Can teach you wholesome sense and nurture, 

But (like a reprobate) what course 

Soever us'd, grow worse and worse ? 

Can no transfusion of the blood, 

That makes fools cattle, do you good ? 4 

Nor putting pigs t' a bitch to nurse, 



HUDIBRAS TO SIDROPHEL. 255 

To turn them into mongrel curs, 

Put you into a way at least 

To make yourself a better beast ? 

Can all your critical intrigues 45 

Of trying sound from rotten eggs ; 

Your sev'ral new-found remedies 

Of curing wounds and scabs in trees ; 

Your arts of fluxing them for claps, 

And purging their infected saps ; 6o 

Recov'ring shankers, chrystallines, 

And nodes and blotches in their rinds ; 

Have no effect to operate 

Upon that duller block, your pate ? 

But still it must be lewdly bent 55 

To tempt your own due punishment ; 

And, like your whimsy'd chariots, draw 

The boys to course you without law ; 

As if the art you have so long 

Profess'd, of making old dogs young, 60 

In you had virtue to renew 

Not only youth but childhood too. 

Can you, that understand all books, 

By judging only with your looks, 

Kesolve all problems with your face, 65 

As others do with B's and A's ; 

Unriddle all that mankind knows 

With solid bending of your brows ; 

All arts and sciences advance 

With screNk^ing of your countenance, '70 

And with a penetrating eye 



256 HUDIBRAS TO SIDROPHEL. 

Into th' abstrusest learning pry ; 

Know more of any trade b' a hint 

Than those that have been bred up in % 

And yet have no art, true or false, 7« 

To help your own bad naturals ? 

But still the more you strive t' appear 

Are found to be the wretcheder : 

For fools are known by looking wise, 

As men find woodcocks by their eyes. 89 

Hence 'tis that 'cause y' have gain'd o' th* college 

A quarter share (at most) of knowledge^^ 

And brought in none, but spent repute, 

Y' assume a pow'r as absolute 

To judge, and censure, and control, 86 

As if you were the sole Sir Poll, 

And saucily pretend to know 

More than your dividend comes to. 

You '11 find the thing will not be done 

With ignorance and face alone ; 9o 

No, though y have purchas'd to your name 

In history so great a fame ; 

V. 86. Sir Pontic Would-be, in " Volpone." 
V. 91, 92. These two lines, I think, plainly discover that 
Lilly, and not Sir Paul Neal, was here lashed under the name 
of ' Sidrophel ; ' for Lilly's fame abroad was indisputable. Mr. 
Strickland, who was many years agent for the Parliament in 
Holland, thus publishes it: "I came purposely into the com- 
mittee this day to see the man who is so famous in those part* 
where I have so long continued : I assure you his name is fa- 
mous aU over Europe. I came to do him justice." Lilly is 
also careful to tell us, that the King of Sweden sent him a gold 
chain and medal, worth about fifty pounds, for making hon 



HUDIBRAS TO SIDROPHEL 257 

That now jonr talent 's so well known 

For having all belief outgrown, 

That evVy strange prodigious tale 95 

Is measur'd by your German scale — 

By which the virtuosi try 

The magnitude of ev'ry lie, 

Cast up to what it does amount, 

.Vnd place the bigg'st to your account : lOO 

That all those stories that are laid 

Too truly to you, and those made, 

Are now still charg'd upon your score, 

And lesser authors nam'd no more. 

Alas ! that faculty betrays W5 

Those soonest it designs to raise ; 

And all your vain renown will spoil. 

As guns o'ercharg'd the more recoil ; 

Though he that has but impudence 

To all things has a fair pretence ; llO 

And put among his wants but shame, 

To all the world may lay his claim : 

Though you have try'd that nothing 's borne 

With greater ease than public scorn, 

That all affronts do still give place ii« 

To your impenetrable face ; 

That makes your way thi^ough aU affairs. 

Durable mention of his Majesty iu one of his almanacks, which, 
he says, was translated into the language spoken at Hamburgh, 
and printed and cried about the streets, as it was in London. 
Thus he trumpets to the world the fame he acquired by his 
infamous practices, if we may credit his own history. 
V. 105. Van ' Destroys..' 



258 HUDIBRAS TO SIDROPHEL. 

As pigs througli hedges creep with theirs : 

Yet as 'tis counterfeit, and brass, 

You must not think 'twill always pass ; iso 

For all impostors, when they 're known, 

Ai'e past their labour and undone ; 

And all the best that can befall 

An artificial natural. 

Is that which madmen find as soon 135 

As once they 're broke loose from the moon. 

And, proof against her influence, 

Relapse to e'er so little sense. 

To turn stark fools, and subjects fit 

For sport of boys and rabble- wit. 130 



PART III. CANTO I. 259 



PAKT III. CANTO L 

THE ARGUMENT. 

The Knight and Squire resolve at once, 

The one the other to renounce ; 

They both approach the Lady's bower, 

The Squire t' inform, the Knight to -woo her. 

She treats them with a masquerade, 

By Furies and Hobgoblins made; 

From which the Squire conveys the Knighty 

And steals him from himself by night. 

Tis true no lover has that pow'r 

T' enforce a desperate amour, 

As he that has two strings t' his bow, 

And burns for love and money too ; 

For then he 's brave and resolute. 

Disdains to render in his suit ; 

Has all his flames and raptures double. 

And hangs or drowns with half the trouble; 

While those who silhly pursue 

The simple downright way and true, 10 

Make as unlucky applications, 

And steer against the stream, their passions. 

Some forge their mistresses of stars, 

And when the ladies pro^e averse, 

And more untoward to be won M 

Than by Caligula the moon. 



2(50 HUDIBRAS. 

Cry out upon the stars for doing 
111 offices, to cross their wooing, 
^^^len only by themselves they 're hind'red, 
For trusting those they made her kindred, sa 

And still the harsher and hide-bounder 
The damsek prove, become the fonder ; 
For what mad lover ever dy'd 
To gain a soft and gentle bride ? 
Or for a lady tender-hearted, ti 

In purhng streams or hemp departed ? 
Leap'd headlong int' Elysium, 
Through th' windows of a dazzling room ? 
But for some cross ill-natur'd dame, 
The am'rous fly burnt in his flame. so 

This to the Knight could be no news, 
With all mankind so much in use, 
Who therefore took the wiser course, 
To make the most of his amours, 
Resolv'd to try all sorts of ways, u 

As follows in due time and place. 
No sooner was the bloody fight 
Between the Wizard and the Knight, 
With all th' appurtenances, over. 
But he relaps'd again t' a lover, 40 

As he was always wont to do 
When h' had discomfited a foe, 
And us'd the only antique philters 
Deriv'd from old heroic tilters. 

V. 43. Var. ' And us'd as.' 



PART in. CANTO I. 261 



4S 



But now triumphant and victorious, 

He held th' achievement was too glorious 

For such a conqueror to meddle 

"With petty constable or beadle, 

Or fly for refuge to the hostess 

Of th' inns of Court and Chancery, Justice ; 50 

Who might perhaps reduce his cause 

To th' ordeal trial of the laws, 

Where none escape but such as branded 

With red-hot irons have past bare-handed ; 

And, if they cannot read one verse m 

I' th' Psalms, must sing it, and that 's worse. 

He, therefore, judging it below him 

To tempt a shame the dev'l might owe him, 

Resolv'd to leave the Squire for bail 

And mainprize for him to the jail, iO 

To answer with his vessel all 

That might disastrously befall. 

And thought it now the fittest juncture 

To give the Lady a rencounter, 

T' acquaint her with his expedition, 91 

And conquest o'er the fierce magician ; 

Describe the manner of the fray. 

And shew the spoils he brought away ; 

His bloody-scourging aggravate. 

The number of the blows, and weight ; » 

All which might probably succeed. 

And gain belief he 'ad done the deed : 

Which he resolv'd t' enforce, and spare 

No pawning of his soul to swear ; 



262 HUDIBRAS. 

But rather than produce his back, 75 

To set his conscience on the rack ; 

And, in pursuance of his urging 

Of articles perform'd, and scourging, ^ 

And all things else, upon his part 

Demand deliv'ry of her heart, so 

Her goods, and chattels, and good graces, 

And person, up to his embraces. 

Thought he, The ancient errant knights 

Won all their ladies' hearts in fights, 

And cut whole giants into fritters, 85 

To put them into am'rous twitters ; 

Whose stubborn bowels sjcorn'd to yield, 

Until their gallants were half kill'd ; 

But when their bones were drubb'd so sore. 

They durst not woo one combat more, aa 

The ladies' hearts began to melt, 

Subdu'd by blows their lovers felt. 

So Spanish heroes with their lances. 

At once wound bulls and ladies' fancies ; 

And he acquires the noblest spouse 95 

That widows gi'eatest herds of cows ; 

Then what may I expect to do, 

Wh' have quell'd so vast a buffalo? 

Meanwhile the Squire was on his way. 
The Knight's late orders to obey ; 100 

Who sent him for a strong detachment 
Of beadles, constables, and watchmen, 
T' attack the cunning-man, for plunder 
Committed falsely on his 1 umber ; 



PAiiT HJ. c a:\to i. 2C3 

Wlien he who had so lately sack'd 105 

The enemy, had done the fact ; 

Had rifled all his pokes and fobs 

Of gimoracks, whims, and jiggumbobs, 

Which he by hook or crook had gatherM, 

And for his own inventions father'd ; 115 

And when they should, at gaol delivery, 

Unriddle one another's thievery, 

Both might have evidence enough 

To render neither halter-proof: 

He thought it desperate to tarry, lic 

And venture to be accessary ; 

But rather wisely slip his fetters, 

And leave them for the Knight, his betters. 

He call'd to mind th' unjust foul play, 

He would have offer'd him that day, 120 

To make him curry his own hide, 

WTiich no beast ever did beside 

Without all possible evasion. 

But of the riding dispensation : 

And therefore much about the hour 125 

The Knight (foi reasons told before) 

Resolv'd to leave him to the fury 

Of Justice, and an unpack'd jury. 

The Squire concurr'd t' abandon him, 

Ajid serve him in the self-same trim ; 130 

T' acquaint the Lady what h' had done, 

And what he meant to carry on ; 

What project 'twas he went about, 

WTien Sidrophel and he fell out : 



26d HUDIBRAS. 

His firm and steadfast resolution, 135 

To swear her to an execution ; 

To pawn his inward ears to marrj her, 

And bribe the devil himself to carry her ; 

In which both dealt, as if they meant 

Their party-saints to represent, uj 

Who never fail'd upon their sharing 

In any prosperous arms-bearing, 

To lay themselves out, to supplant 

Each other cousin-german saint. 

But ere the Knight could do his part, 145 

The Squire had got so much the start, 

H' had to the Lady done his errand, 

And told her all his tricks aforehand. 

Just as he finish'd his report. 

The Knight alighted in the court, 150 

And having ty'd his beast t' a pale, 

And taking time for both to stale, 

He put his band and beard in order, 

The sprucer to accost and board her : 

And now began t' approach the door, 255 

Wlien she, wh' had spy'd him out before, 

Convey'd th' informer out of sight, 

And went to entertain the Knight ; 

With whom encount'ring, after longees 

Of humble and submissive congees, lec 

And all due ceremonies paid. 

He strok'd his beard, and thus he said : 

Madam, I do, as is my duty, 
Honour the shadow of your shoe-tye ; 



PART in. V.ANTO I. 265 

And now am come to bring your ear i«a 

A present you '11 be glad to hear ; 

At least I hope so : the thing 's done, 

Or may I never see the sun ; 

For which I humbly now demand 

Performance at your gentle hand ; no 

And that you 'd please to do your part 

As I have done mine, to my smart. 

With that he shrugg'd his sturdy back, 
As if he felt his shoulders ake : 
But she, who well enough knew what n§ 

(Before he spoke) he would be at, 
Pretended not to apprehend 
The mystery of what he mean'd. 
And therefore wish'd him to expound 
His dark expressions less profound. iso 

Madam, quoth he, I come to prove 
How much I Ve suffer'd for your love, 
Which (like your votary) to win, 
I have not spar'd my tatter'd skin : 
And, for those meritorious lashes, , 186 

To claim your favour and good graces. 

Quoth she, I do remember once 
I freed you from th' inchanted sconce. 
And that you promis'd for that favour 
To bind your back to th* good behaviour ; i90 

A-nd, for my sake and service, vow*d 
To lay upon 't a heavy load. 
And what *t would bear t' a scruple prove, 
A.S other knights do oft make love ; 

voii. I. 21 



266 ' HUDIBRAS. 

Which, whether you have done or no, i95 

Concerns yourself, not me, to know ; 
But if you have, I shall confess 
Y' are honester than I could guess. 

Quoth he, If you suspect my troth, 
I cannot prove it but by oath ; mc 

And if you make a question on 't, 
I '11 pawn my soul that I have done 't : 
And he that makes his soul his surety, 
I think, does give the best security. 

Quoth she, Some say the soul 's secure 205 

Against distress and forfeiture ; 
Is free from action, and exempt 
From execution and contempt ; 
And to be summon'd to appear 
In th' other world 's illegal here, 210 

And therefore few make any account 
Int' what incumbrances they run 't 
For most men carry things so even 
Between this world, and hell, and heaven, 
Without the least offence to either, 215 

They freely deal in all together, 
And equally abhor to quit 
This world for both, or both for it ; 
And when they pawn and damn their souls, 
They are but pris'ners on paroles. '^'^^ 

For that, quoth he, 'tis rational, 
They may b' accomptable in all : 
For when there is that intercourse 
Between divine and human pow'rs, 



PART in. CANTO ir 267 

riiat all that we determine here sm 

Commands obedience everj-where ; 

When penalties may be commuted 

For fines, or ears, and executed. 

It follows nothing binds so fast 

As souls in pawn and mortgage past ; 330 

For oaths are th' only tests and seals 

Of right and wrong, and true and false ; 

And there 's no other way to try 

The doubts of law and justice by. 

Quoth she. What is it you would swear ? 38« 
There 's no believing till I hear : 
For till they 're understood, all tales 
(Like nonsense) are not true nor false. 

Quoth he. When I resolv'd t' obey 
What you commanded th' other day, 340 

And to perform my exercise 
(As schools are wont) for your fair eyes, 
T' avoid all scruples in the case, 
I went to do 't upon the place 
But as the castle is inchanted • 349 

By Sidrophel the witch, and haunted 
With evil spirits, as you know. 
Who took my Squire and me for two. 
Before I 'ad hardly time to lay 
My weapons by, and disarray, ssg 

I heard a formidable noise, 
Loud as the Stentrophonic voice, 
That roar'd far off. Dispatch, and strip, 
1 'm ready with th' infernal whip, 



268 HUDIBRAS. 

That shall divest thy ribs of skin, ass 

To expiate thy ling'ring sin ; 

Th' hast broke perfidiously thy oath, 

And not perform'd thy pUghted troth, 

But spar'd thy renegado back, 

Where th' hadst so great a prize at stake, 260 

Which now the Fates have order'd me, 

For penance and revenge to flee. 

Unless thou presently make haste ; 

Time is, time was : and there it ceast. 

With which, though startled, I confess, 265 

Yet th' horror of the thing was less 

Than th' other dismal apprehension 

Of interruption or prevention ; 

And therefore snatching up the rod, 

I laid upon my back a load, 2W 

Resolv'd to spare no flesh and blood. 

To make my word and honour good : 

Till tir'd, and taking truce at length. 

For new recruits of breath and strength, 

I felt the blows still ply'd as fast 315 

As if th' had been by lovers plac'd 

In raptures of Platonic lashing. 

And chaste contemplative bardashing ; 

When facing hastily about, 

To stand upon my guard and scout, 280 

I found th' infernal cunning-man. 

And th' under-witch, his Caliban, 

With scourges (like the Furies) arm'd. 

That on my outward quarters storm'd. 



PART III. CANTO I. 269 

In haste I snatch'd my weapon up, 285 

Aiid gave their hellish rage a stop ; 
Call'd thrice upon your name, and fell 
Courageously on Sidrophel ; 
Who now transform'd himself t' a bear, 
Began to roar aloud and tear ; 390 

When I as furiously press' d on, 
My weapon down his throat to run, 
Laid hold on him, but he broke loose, 
And turn'd himself into a goose, 
Div'd under water in a pond, sps 

To hide himself from being found. 
In vain I sought him ; but as soon 
As I perceiv'd him fled and gone, 
Prepar'd, with equal haste and rage, 
His under-sorcerer t' engage; soo 

But bravely scornmg to defile 
My sword with feeble blood, and vile, 
I judg'd it better from a quick- 
Set hedge to cut a knotted stick ; 
With which I furiously laid on, SO0 

Till in a harsh and doleful tone 
It roar'd, O hold, for pity. Sir ! 
I am too great a sufferer, 
Abus'd, as you have been, b' a witch, 
But conjur'd into a worse caprich : sio 

Who sends me out on many a jaunt, 
Old houses in the night to haunt, 
For opportunities t' improve 
Designs of thievery or love ; 



270 IIUDIBRAS. 

With drugs convey'd in drink or meat, sis 

All feats of witches counterfeit, 

Kill pigs and geese with powder'd glass, 

And make it for inchantment pass ; 

With cow-itch measle like a leper, 

And choke with fumes of Guinea-pepper ; 33c 

Make lechers, and their punks, with dewtry 

Commit phantastical advowtry ; 

Bewitch Hermetic-men to run 

Stark staring mad with manicon ; 

Believe mechanic virtuosi 325 

Can raise them mountains in Potosi ; 

And, sillier than the antic fools, 

Take treasure for a heap of coals ; 

Seek out for plants with signatures, 

To quack off universal cures ; 33o 

With figures ground on panes of glass. 

Make people on their heads to pass ; 

And mighty heaps of coin increase. 

Reflected from a single piece ; 

To draw in fools, whose nat'ral itches sss 

Incline perpetually to witches, 

And keep me in continual fears. 

And danger of my neck and ears ; 

When less delinquents have been scourged, 

And hemp on wooden anvils forg'd, 34c 

Which others for cravats have worn 

About their necks, and took a turn. 

I pity'd the sad punishment 
The wretched caitiff underwent. 



PART III. CANTO I. 271 

And held my drubbing of liis bones 845 

Too great an honour for pultroons ; 

For knights are bound to feel no blows 

From paltry and unequal foes, 

Who, when they slash and cut to pieces, 

Do all with civilest addresses: 860 

Their horses never give a blow, 

But when they make a leg and bow. 

I therefore spar'd his flesh, and prest him 

About the witch with many a question. 

•Quoth he, For many years he drove ui 

A kmd of brokmg-trade in love : 
Employ 'd in aU th' intrigues and trust, 
Of feeble speculative lust; 
Procurer to th' extravagancy 
And crazy ribaldry of fancy, SM 

By those the devil had forsook, 
As things below him, to provoke ; 
But b'ing a virtuoso, able 
To smatter, quack, and cant, and dabble, 
He held his talent most adroit, 88« 

For any mystical exploit. 
As others of his tribe had done. 
And rais'd their prices three to one : 
For one predicting pimp has th' odds 
Of chaldrons of plain downright bawds, 87# 

But as an elf (the devTs valet) 
Is not so slight a thing to get. 
For those that do his bus'ness best, 
In hell are us'd the ruggedest, 



272 HUDIBRAS. 

Before so meriting a person vit 

Could get a grant, but in reversion, 

He serv'd two prenticeships, and longer, 

I' til' myst'ry of a lady-monger. 

For (as some write) a witch's ghost, 

As soon as from the body loos'd, sso 

Becomes a puiney imp itself, 

And is another witch's elf. 

He, after searching far and near, 

At length found one in Lancashire, 

With whom he bargam'd before-hand, sss 

And, after hanging, entertain'd : 

Smce which h' has play'd a thousand feats, 

And practis'd all mechanic cheats ; 

Transform'd himself to th' ugly shapes 

Of wolves, and bears, baboons, and apes, S9€ 

Which he has vary'd more than witches. 

Or Pharaoh's wizards, could their switches; 

And all with whom h' has had to do, 

Turn'd to as monstrous figures too ; 

Witness myself, whom h' has abus'd, gds 

And to this beastly shape reduc'd, 

By feeding me on beans and pease 

He crams in nasty crevices, 

And turns to comfits by liis arts. 

To make me relish for deserts, 40o 

And one by one, with shame and fear, 

Lick up the candy'd provender. 

Beside — But as h' was running on, 

To tell what other feats h' had done, 



PART III. CANTO I. 273 

The Ladj stopt his full career, 405 

And told him now 'twas time to hear. 

If half those things (said she) be true — 

They 're all (quoth he), I swear by you: — 

Why then (said she) that Sidrophel 

Has damn'd himself to th' pit of hell, 410 

Who, mounted on a broom, the nag 

And hackney of a Lapland hag, 

In quest of you came hither post, 

Within an hour (I 'm sure) at most. 

Who told me all you swear and say, 4l< 

Quite contrary another way ; 

Vow'd that you came to him, to know 

If you should carry me or no ; 

And would have hir'd him and his imps, 

To be your match-makers and pimps, 430 

T' engage the devil on your side. 

And steal (like Proserpine) your bride ; 

But he disdaming to embrace 

So filthy a design and base, 

You fell to vapouring and huffing, 439 

And drew upon him like a ruffin ; 

Surpris'd him meanly, unprepar'd, 

Before h' had time to mount his guard, 

And left him dead upon the ground. 

With many a bruise and desp'rate wound : 48O 

Swore you had broke and robb'd his house, 

And stole his talismanic louse, 

4nd all Ms new-found old inventions, 

With flat felonious intentions ; 



274 HUDIBRAS. 

Which he could bring out where he had, 48i 

And what he bought them for, and paid : 

His flea, his morpion, and punese, 

H' had gotten for his proper ease, 

And all in perfect minutes made, 

By th' ablest artist of the trade ; 441 

Which (he could prove it) since he lost 

He has been eaten up almost ; 

And altogether might amount 

To many hundreds on account: 

yor which h' had got sufficient warrant 44« 

To seize the malefactors errant. 

Without capacity of bail, 

But of a cart's or horse's tail ; 

And did not doubt to bring the wretches 

To serve for pendulums to watches ; 46c 

Which, modern virtuosis say. 

Incline to hanging every way. 

Beside, he swore, and swore 'twas true, 

That ere he went in quest of you. 

He set a figure to discover 4M 

If you were fled to Rye or Dover ; 

And found it clear that, to betray 

Yourselves and me, you fled tliis way ; 

And that he was upon pursuit, 

To take you somewhere hereabout. 46o 

He vow'd he had intelligence 

Of all that pass'd before and since, 

And found that, ere you came to him, 

Y' had been engaging life and limb 



PART III. CANTO I. 275 

About a case of tender cotiscience, 466 

Where both abounded in your own sense, 

Till Ralpho, by his light and grace, 

Had clear'd all scruples in the case ; 

And prov'd that you might swear and own 

Whatever 's by the Wicked done ; 470 

For which, most basely to requite 

The service of his gifts and light, 

You strove t' obUge him, by main force, 

To scourge his ribs instead of yours ; 

But that he stood upon his guai'd, 416 

And all your vapouring out-dar'd ; 

For which, between you both, the feat 

Has never been perform'd as yet. 

While thus the Lady talk'd, the Knight 
Turn'd th' outside of his eyes to white 480 

(As men of inward light are wont 
To turn their optics in upon 't) ; 
He wonder'd how she came to know 
What he had done, and meant to do : 
Held up his affidavit-hand, 486 

As if h' had been to be arraign'd ; 
Cast towards the door a ghastly look, 
In dread of Sidrophel, and spoke : 

Madam, if but one word be true 
Of all the wizard has told you, 490 

Or but one single circumstance 
In all th' apocryphal romance. 
May dreadful earthquakes swallow down 
This vessel, that is all your own ; 



276 HUDIBRAS. 

Or may the heavens fall and cover 4M 

These reUques of your constant lover. 

You have provided well (quoth she), 
(I thank you) for yourself and me, 
And shewn your Presbyterian wits 
Jump punctual with the Jesuits' ; soo 

A most compendious way and civil. 
At once to cheat the world, the devil. 
And heaven and hell, yourselves, and those 
On whom you vainly think t' impose. 
Why then (quoth he), may hell surprise^ sos 
That trick (said she) will not pass twice : 
I 've learn'd how far I 'm to believe 
Your pinning oaths upon your sleeve ; 
But there 's a better way of clearing 
What you would prove, than downright swearing • 
For if you have perform'd the feat, 
The blows are visible as yet, 
Enough to serve for satisfaction 
Of nicest scruples in the action ; 
And if you can produce those knobs, sis 

Although they 're but the witch's drubs, 
I '11 pass them aU upon account, 
As if your nat'ral self had done 't ; 
Provided that they pass th' opinion 
Of able juries of old women ; sso 

Who, us'd to judge all matter of facts 
For bellies, may do so for backs. 

Madam (quoth he), your love 's a million, 
To do is less than to be willing. 



PART JII. CANTO J. 277 

As I am, were it in my power 69« 

T' obey what you command, and more ; 

But for performing what you bid, 

I thank you as much as if I did. 

You know I ought to have a care 

To keep my wounds from taking air ; 530 

For wounds in those that are all heart, 

Are dangerous in any part. 

I find (quoth she) my goods and chattels 
Are like to prove but mere drawn battles ; 
For still the longer we contend, oaa 

"We are but farther off the end ; 
But granting now we should agree, 
What is it you expect from me ? 
Your plighted faith (quoth he) and word 
You past in heaven on record, mo 

Where all contracts, to have and t' hold, 
Are everlastingly enroll'd ; 
And if 'tis counted treason here 
To raze records, 'tis much more there. 

Quoth she, There are no bargains driv'n 54a 
Nor marriages clapp'd up in heav'n, 
And that 's the reason, as some guess. 
There is no heav'n in marriages ; 
Two things that naturally press 
Too narrowly to be at ease ; 550 

Their bus'ness there is only love. 
Which marriage is not like t' improve ; 
Love, that 's too generous t' abide 
To be against its nature ty'd ; 



278 HUDIBRAS. 

For where 'tis of itself inclin'd, sss 

It breaks loose when it is confin'd, 

And like the soul, its harbourer, 

Debarr'd the freedom of the air, 

Disdains against its will to stay, 

But struggles out and flies away ; 6S9 

And therefore never can comply 

T' endure the matrimonial tie. 

That binds the female and the male, 

Where th' one is but the other's bail ; 

Like Roman gaolers, when they slept tes 

Chain'd to the prisoners they kept. 

Of which the true and faithful'st lover, 

Gives best security to suffer. 

Marriage is but a beast some say. 

That carries double in foul way, 570 

And therefore 'tis not to b' admir'd 

It should so suddenly be tir'd : 

A bargain, at a venture made. 

Between two partners in a trade ; 

(For what 's inferr'd by t' have and t' hold, 6^b 

But something past away, and sold ?) 

That, as it makes but one of two. 

Reduces all things else as low ; 

And at the best is but a mart. 

Between the one and th' other part, 5s 1 

That on the marriage-day is paid. 

Or hour of death, the bet is laid ; 

And all the rest of better or worse, 

Both are but losers out of purse : 



PART III. CANTO I. 279 

For when upon their ungot heirs 58fl 

Th' entail themselves, and all that 's theirs, 

What blinder bargain e'er was driv'n, 

Or wager laid at six and sev'n ? 

To pass themselves away, and turn 

Their children's tenants ere they 're bom? 69o 

Beg one another idiot 

To guardians, ere they are begot ; 

Or ever shall, perhaps, by th' one 

Who 's bound to vouch 'em for his own, 

Though got b' implicit generation, 596 

And gen'ral club of all the nation ; 

For which she 's fortify'd no less 

Than all the island, with four seas ; 

Exacts the tribute of her dower, 

In ready insolence and power, 600 

And makes him pass away, to have 

And hold, to her, himself, her slave. 

More wretched than an ancient villain, 

Condemn'd to drudgery and tilhng : 

While aU he does upon the by, 60ft 

She is not bound to justify. 

Nor at her proper cost and charge 

Maintain the feats he does at large. 

Such hideous sots were those obedient 

Old vassals, to their ladies regent, 610 

To give the cheats the eldest hand 

In foul play, by the laws o' th' land ; 

For which so many a legal cuckold 

Has been run down in courts, and truckled: 



280 HUDIBRAS. 

A law that most unjustly yokes «16 

All Johns of Stiles to Joans of Noakes, 

Without distinction of degree, 

Condition, age, or quality ; 

Admits no pow'r of revocation, 

Nor valuable consideration, sao 

Nor writ of Error, nor reverse 

Of judgment past, for better or worse; 

Will not allow the privileges 

That beggars challenge under hedges, 

Who, when they 're giiev'd, can make dead horses 

Their sp'ritual judges of divorces, 

WhUe nothing else but rem in re 

Can set the proudest wretches free ; 

A slavery beyond enduring. 

But that 'tis of their own procuring. mo 

As spiders never seek the fly, 

But leave him of himself t' apply ; 

So men are by themselves employ'd. 

To quit the freedom they enjoy'd. 

And run their necks into a noose, is* 

They 'd break 'em after to break loose. 

As some whom death would not depart, 

Have done the feat themselves by art : 

Like Indian widows, gone to bed. 

In flaming curtains, to the dead ; 64o 

And men as often dangled for 't, 

And yet will never leave the sport. 

Nor do the ladies want excuse 

For all the stratagems they use, 



PART III. CANTO I. 281 

To gain th' advantage of the set, 64ft 

And lurch the amorous rook and cheat. 

For as the Pythagorean soul 

Runs through all beasts, and fish, and fowl, 

And has a smack of ev'ry one, 

So love does, and has ever done ; 660 

And therefore though 'tis ne'er so fond. 

Takes strangely to the vagabond. 

'Tis but an ague that 's reverst, 

Whose hot fit takes the patient first, 

That after burns with cold as much 665 

As iron in Greenland does the touch ; 

Melts in the furnace of desire 

Like glass, that 's but the ice of fire ; 

And when his heat of fancy 's over, 

Becomes as hard and frail a lover: 660 

For when he 's with love-powder laden, 

And prim'd and cock'd by Miss or Madam, 

The smallest sparkle of an eye 

Gives fire to his artillery, 

And ofi" the loud oaths go, but, while 66a 

They 're in the very act, recoil : 

Hence 'tis so few dare take their chance 

Without a sep'rate maintenance ; 

And widows, who have try'd one lover. 

Trust none again till they 've made over ; tno 

Or if they do, before they marry 

The foxes weigh the geese they carry ; 

And ere they venture o'er a stream, 

Know how to size themselves and them. 

VOL. I. 22 



282 HUDIBRAS. 

Wlience wittiest ladies always choose eit 

To undertake the heaviest goose : 

For now the world is grown so wary, 

That few of either sex dare marry, 

But rather trust on tick t' amours, 

The cross and pile for bett'r or worse ; eso 

A mode that is held honourable 

As well as French and fashionable : 

For when it falls out for the best. 

Where both are incommoded least. 

In soul and body two unite we 

To make up one hermaphrodite ; 

Still amorous, and fond, and billing, 

Like Philip and Mary on a shilling, 

They 've more punctilios and capriches 

Between the petticoat and breeches ; eso 

More petulent extravagances 

Than poets make 'em in romances ; 

Though when their heroes 'spouse the dames, 

We hear no more of charms and flames ; 

For then their late attracts decline 695 

And turn as eager as prick'd wine ; 

And all their caterwauling tricks, 

In earnest to as jealous piques : 

Which th' ancients wisely signify'd 

By th' yellow manteaus of the bride ; too 

For jealousy is but a kind 

Of clap and grincam of the mind. 

The natural effects of love. 

As other flames and aches prove : 



PART ni. CANTO I. 283 

I3ut all the mischief is the doubt to 

On whose account they first broke out. 

For though Chineses go to bed 

And lie-in, in their ladies' stead ; 

And, for the pains they took before, 

Are nurs'd and pamper'd to do more ; 716 

Our green-men do it worse, when th' hap 

To fall in labour of a clap ; 

Both lay the child to one another, 

But who 's the father ? who the mother ? 

'Tis hard to say in multitudes, lia 

Or who imported the French goods. 

But health and sickness b'ing all one, 

Which both engag'd before to own, 

And are not with their bodies bound 

To worship, only when they 're sound ; tm 

Both give and take their equal shares 

Of all they suffer by false wares ; 

A fate no lover can divert 

With all his caution, wit, and art : 

For 'tis in vain to think to guess 735 

At women by appearances ; 

That paint and patch their imperfections, 

Of intellectual complexions, 

And daub their tempers o'er with washes 

As artificial as their faces : 7M 

Wear, under vizard-masks, their talents 

And mother-wits, before their gallants ; 

Until they 're hamper'd in the noose. 

Too fast to dream of breating loose : 



284 HUDIBRAS. 

When all the flaws they strove to hide isa 

Are made unready with the bride, 

That with her wedding-clothes undi*esses 

Her complaisance and gentilesses ; 

Tries all her arts to take upon her 

The government from th' easy owner ; 740 

Until the wretch is glad to wave 

His lawful right, and turn her slave ; 

Find all his having and his holding 

Reduc'd t' eternal noise and scolding ; 

The conjugal petard, that tears 744 

Down all portcuUices of ears. 

And makes the volley of one tongue 

For all their leathern shields too strong. 

When only arm'd with noise and nails, 

The female silk-worms ride the males ; 760 

Transform 'era into rams and goats 

Like Syrens, with their charming notes ; 

Sweet as the screech-owl's serenade, 

Or those enchanting murmurs made 

By th' husband mandrake, and the wife, 755 

Both bury'd (like themselves) alive. 

Quoth he. These reasons are but strains 
Of wanton, over-heated brains. 
Which ralliers in their wit or drink 
J)o rather wheedle with than think. 761 

Man was not man in Paradise, 
Until he was created twice ; 
And had his better half, his bride, 
Carv'd from th' original, his side, 



PART III. CANTO I. 285 

T' amend his natural defects, 765 

And perfect liis recruiting sex ; 

Enlarge his breed at once, and lessen 

The pains and labour of increasing, 

By changing them for other cares, 

As by his dried-up paps appears. 770 

His body, that stupendous frame, 

Of all the world the anagram. 

Is of two equal parts compact. 

In shape and symmetry exact; 

Of which the left and female side 77ft 

Is to the manly right a bride ; 

Both join'd together with such art, 

That nothing else but death can part. 

Those heav'nly attracts of yours, your eyes, 

And face, that all the world surprise, tm 

That dazzle all that look upon ye. 

And scorch all other ladies tawny ; 

Those ravishing and charming graces, 

Are all made up of two half-faces, 

That, in a mathematic line, 78A 

Like those in other heavens, join : 

Of which, if either grew alone, 

'Twould fright as much to look upon : 

And so would that sweet bud, your lip, 

Without the other's fellowship. uj 

Our noblest senses act by pairs. 

Two eyes to see ; to hear, two ears ; 

Th' intelligencers of tb 3 mind. 

To wait upon the soul design'd : 



286 HUDIBRAS. 

But those that serve the body' alone 791 

Are single and confin'd to one. 

The world is but two parts, that meet 

And close at th' equinoctial fit ; 

And so are all the works of Nature, 

Stamp'd with her signature on matter ; 8M 

Which all her creatures, to a leaf. 

Or smallest blade of grass, receive. 

All which sufficiently declare 

How entirely marriage is her care, 

The only method that she uses tOA 

In all the wonders she produces; 

And those that take their rules from her 

Can never be deceiv'd, nor err : 

For what secures the civil life. 

But pawns of children, and a wife ? sio 

That lie, like hostages, at stake, 

To pay for all men undertake ; 

To whom it is as necessary, 

As to be borne and breathe, to marry ; 

So universal, all mankind eii 

In nothing else is of one mind ; 

For in what stupid age or nation 

Was marriage ever out of fashion ? 

Unless among the Amazons, 

Or cloister'd Friars and Vestal nuns, sso 

Or Stoics, who, to bar the freaks 

And loose excesses of the sex, 

Prepost'rously would have all women 

Turn'd up to all the world in common. 



PART III. CANTO I- 287 

Though men would find such mortal feuds 835 

In sharing of their public goods, 

Twould put them to more charge of lives 

Than they 're supply'd with now by wives, 

Until they graze, and wear their clothes, 

As beasts do, of their native growths ; 830 

For simple wearing of their horns 

Will not suffice to serve their turns. 

For what can we pretend t' inherit. 

Unless the marriage-deed will bear it ? 

Could claim no right to lands or rents, 6S5 

But for our parents' settlements ; 

Had been but younger sons o' th' earth 

Debarr'd it all, but for our birth. 

What honours, or estates of peers. 

Could be preserv'd but by their heirs ? 840 

And what security maintains 

Their right and title, but the banns ? 

What crowns could be hereditary. 

If greatest monarchs did not marry, 

And with their consorts consummate ms 

Their weightiest interests of state ? 

For all th' amours of princes are 

But guarantees of peace or war. 

Or what but marriage has a charm, 

The rage of empires to disarm ? 8M 

Make blood and desolation cease, 

And fire and sword unite in peace ; 

When all their fierce contests for forage 

Conclude in articles of marriage. 



288 HUDIBRAS. 

Nor does the genial bed provide 85a 

Less for the int'rests of the bride, 

Who else had not the least pretence 

T' as much as due benevolence ; 

Could no more title take upon her 

To virtue, quahty, and honour, set 

Than ladies errant unconfin'd. 

And feme-coverts to all mankind. 

All women would be of one piece, 

The virtuous matron, and the miss ; 

The nymphs of chaste Diana's train, mi 

The same with those in Lewkner's lane ; 

But for the diff'rence marriage makes 

*Twixt wives and ladies of the Lakes : 

Besides the jojs of place and birth. 

The sex's paradise on earth, 87C 

A privilege so sacred held 

That none will to their mothers yield, 

But, rather than not go before. 

Abandon heaven at the door: 

And if th' indulgent law allows 875 

A greater freedom to the spouse. 

The reason is, because the wife 

Runs greater hazards of her life ; 

Is trusted with the form and matter 

Of all mankind by careful Nature ; 880 

Where man brings nothing but the stuff 

She frames the wondrous fabric of; 

Who therefore, in a strait, may freely 

Demand the clergy of her belly ; 



PART III. CANTO I. 289 

And make it save Uer the same way 88» 

It seldom misses to betraj, 

Unless both parties wisely enter 

Into the Liturgy indenture. 

And though some fits of small contest 

Sometimes fall out among the best, 890 

That is no more than every lover 

Does from his hackney-lady suffer; 

That makes no breach of faith and love, 

But rather sometimes serves t' improve : 

For as, in running, every pace 8M 

Is but between two legs a race, 

In which both do their uttermost 

To get before and win the post, 

Yet, when they 're at their races' ends. 

They 're still as kind and constant friends, too 

And, to relieve their weariness, 

By turns give one another ease ; 

So all those false alarms of strife 

Between the husband and the wife, 

And little quarrels, often prove 90f 

To be but new recruits of love, 

When those who 're always kind or coy 

In time must either tire or cloy. 

Nor are the loudest clamours more 

Than as they 're relish'd sweet or sour ; tie 

Like music, that proves bad or good 

According as 'tis understood. 

In all amours a lover burns 

With frowns, as vieW as smiles, by turns ; 



290 HUDIBRAS. 

And hearts have been as oft with sullen 9} 5 

As charming looks surpris'd and stolen : 

Then why should more bewitching clamouU 

Some lovers not as much enamour ? 

For discords make the sweetest airs, 

And curses are a kind of pray'rs ; 920 

Two slight alloys for all those grand 

Felicities by marriage gain'd : 

For nothing else has power to settle 

The interests of love perpetual. 

An act and deed that makes one heart 930 

Become another's counter-part, 

And passes fines on faith and love, 

Inroll'd and register'd above. 

To seal the slippery knots of vows, 

Which nothing else but death can loose. 980 

And what security 's too strong 

To guard that gentle heart from wrong 

That to its friend is glad to pass 

Itself away and all it has, 

And, like an anchorite, gives over 935 

This world for th' heaven of a lover ? 

I grant (quoth she) there are some few 
Who take that course, and find it true. 
But millions whom the same does sentence 
To heav'n b* another way, repentance. 94 

Love's arrows are but shot at rovers. 
Though all they hit they turn to lovers. 
And all the weighty consequents 
Depend upon more blind events 



PART III. CANTO I. 291 

Than gamesters, when they play a set 94& 

With greatest cunnmg at Piquet, 

Put out with caution, but take in 

They know not what, unsight unseen. 

For what do lovers, when they 're fast 

In one another's arms embrac'd, 950 

But strive to plunder, and convey 

Each other, like a prize, away ? 

To change the property of selves, 

As sucking children are by elves ? 

And if they use their persons so, MS 

What will they to their fortunes do ? 

Their fortunes ! the perpetual aims 

Of all their ecstasies and flames. 

For when the money 's on the book. 

And * All my worldly goods ' but spoke 960 

(The formal livery and seisin 

That puts a lover in possession). 

To that alone the bridegroom 's wedded, 

The bride a flam that 's superseded : 

To that their faith is still made good, 96« 

And all the oaths to us they vow'd ; 

For when we once resign our pow'rs, 

We 've nothing left we can call ours ; 

Our money 's now become the Miss 

Of all your lives and services, 9T9 

And we, forsaken and postpon'd. 

But bawds to what before we own'd ; 

Which, as it made y' at first gallant us, 

So now hires other? to supplant us» 



292 HCDIliRAS. 

tTntil tis all turn'd out of doors s:3 

(As we had been) for new amours. 

For what did ever heiress yet, 

By being born to lordships, get ? 

When, the more lady she 's of manors, 

She 's but expos'd to more trepanners, 9m 

Pays for their projects and designs, 

And for her own destruction fines ; 

And does but tempt them with her riches, 

To use her as the dev'l does witches, 

Who takes it for a special grace psj 

To be their cully for a space. 

That, when the time 's expir'd, the drazels 

For ever may become his vassals ; 

So she, bewitch'd by rooks and spirits, 

Betrays herself and all sh' inherits ; 99c 

Is bought and sold, hke stolen goods, 

By pimps, and match-makers, and bawds ; 

Until they force her to convey 

And steal the thief himself away. 

These are the everlasting fruits 995 

Of all your passionate love-suits, 

Th' effects of all your am'rous fancies 

To portions and inheritances ; 

Your love-sick rapture, for fruition 

Of dowry, jointure, and tuition ; 1001 

To which you make address and courtship, 

And with your bodies strive to worship, 

That th' infant's fortunes may partake 

Of love too for the mother's sake. 



PART III. CANTO I. 293 

For these you play at purposes, looo 

And love your loves with A's and B's ; 
For these at Beste and L'Ombre woo, 
And play for love and money too : 
Strive who shall be the ablest man 
At right gallanting of a fan ; loio 

And who the most genteelly bred 
. At sucking of a vizard-bead ; 
How best t' accost us in all quarters, 
T' our question-and-command new garters ; 
And solidly discourse upon lOia 

All sorts of dresses pro and con : 
For there 's no mystery nor trade 
But in the art of love is made ; 
And when you have more debts to pay 
Than Michaelmas and Lady-day, loso 

And no way possible to do 't 
But love and oaths, and restless suit. 
To us y apply to pay the scores 
Of all your cuUy'd past amours ; 
Act o'er your flames and darts again, loas 

And charge us with your wounds and pain, 
Which others' influences long since 
Have charm'd your noses with and shins, 
For which the surgeon is unpaid, 
And like to be without our aid. lOM 

Lord ! what an am'rous thing is want 
How debts and mortgages inchant ! 
What gi'aces must that lady have 
That can from executions save I 



294 HUDIBRAS. 

What charms that can reverse extent, if»8 

And null degree and exigent ! 

What magical attracts and graces 

That can redeem from Scire facias, 

F'rom bonds and statutes can discharge, 

And from contempts of courts enlarge ! i04C 

These are the highest excellences 

Of all your true or false pretences ; 

And you would damn yourselves, and swear 

As much t' an hostess dowager, 

Grown fat and pursy by retail io4S 

Of pots of beer and bottled ale, 

And find her fitter for your turn, 

For fat is wondrous apt to burn ; 

Wlio at your flames would soon take fire, 

Relent and melt to your desire, i050 

And, like a candle in the socket, 

Dissolve her graces int' your pocket. 

By this time 'twas gi'own dark and late, 
When they' heard a knocking at the gate, 
Laid on in haste, with such a powder, loss 

V. 1053, 1054. The persons who knocked at the gate were, 
pi-obably, two of the lady's own ser^'ants: for as she and 
Ralpho (who all the time lay in ambuscade) had been de- 
scanting on the Knight's villanies, so they had undoubtedly 
laid this scheme to be revenged of him : the servants were 
disguised, and acted in a bold and hectoring manner, pursuant 
to the instructions given them by the Widow. The Knight 
was to be made believe they were Sidrophel and Whachum 
which made his fright and consternation so <;i"6at that tt'« 
find him faUing into a swoon. 



PAET III. CANTO I. 295 

The blows grew louder still and louder ; 

Which Hudibras, as if they 'd been 

Bestow'd as freely on his skin, 

Expounding by his inward light, 

Or rather more prophetic fright, IMO 

To be the Wizard come to search, 

And take him napping in the lurch, 

Turn'd pale as ashes or a clout, 

But why or wherefore is a doubt ; 

For men will tremble, and turn paler, loea 

With too much or too little valour. 

His heart laid on, as if it try'd 

To force a passage through his side, 

Impatient (as he vow'd) to wait 'era, 

But in a fury to fly at 'em ; loto 

And therefore beat and laid about. 

To find a cranny to creep out. 

But she, who saw in what a taking 

The Knight was by his furious quaking. 

Undaunted cry'd, Courage, Sir Knight, i07a 

Know I 'm resolv'd to break no rite 

Of hospital'ty to a stranger. 

But, to secure you out of danger, 

Will here myself stand sentinel 

To guard this pass 'gainst Sidrophel. 108O 

Women, you know, do seldom fail 

To make the stoutest men turn tail. 

And bravely scorn to turn their backs 

Upon the desp'ratest attacks. 

At this the Knight "rew re^^olute iom 



29 G nuDiBR/LS. 

As Ironside or Hardiknute ; 

His fortitude began to rally. 

And out he cry'd aloud to sallj : 

But she besought him to convey 

His courage rather out o' th' way, ; " ' r 

And lodge in ambush on the floor, 

Or fortify'd behind a door, 

That, if the enemy should enter. 

He might relieve her in th' adventure. 

Meanwhile they knock'd against the door loee 
As fierce as at the gate before ; 
Which made the renegado Knight 
Relapse again t' his former fright. 
He thought it desperate to stay 
Till th' enemy had forc'd his way, yoo 

But rather post himself, to serve 
The Lady for a fresh reserve. 
His duty was not to dispute. 
But what sh' had order'd execute ; 
Which he resolv'd in haste t' obey, un 

And therefore stoutly march'd away, 
And all h' encounter'd fell upon. 
Though in the dark, and all alone ; 
Till fear, that braver feats performs 
Than ever courage dar'd in arms, iiu 

Had drawn him up before a pass. 
To stand upon his guard, and face : 



V. 1086. Two famous and valiant princes of this country 
the one a Saxon, the other a Dane. 



PART III. CANTO I. 207 

This he courageously invaded, 
And, having enter'd, barricaded ; 
Insconc'd himself as formidable lll« 

As could be underneath a table. 
Where he lay down m ambush close, 
T' expect th' arrival of his foes. 
Few minutes he had lain perdue. 
To guard his desp'rate avenue, 1120 

Before he heard a dreadful shout. 
As loud as putting to the rout, 
With which impatiently alarm'd, 
He fancy'd th' enemy had storm'd, 
And, after ent'ring, Sidrophel tiS6 

Was fall'n upon the guards pell-meU : 
He therefore sent out all his senses 
To bring him in intelligences, 
Which vulgars, out of ignorance, 
Mistake for falling in a trance ; liso 

But those that trade in geomancy 
Affirm to be the strength of fancy, 
In which the Lapland Magi deal. 
And things incredible reveal. 
Meanwhile the foe beat up his quarters, uu 

And storm'd the outworks of his fortress ; 
And as another of the same 
Degree and party in arms and fame. 
That in the same cause had engag'd. 
And war with equal conduct wag'd, ilii/ 

By vent'ring only but to thrust 
His head a span beyond his post, 
VOL. I. 23 



298 HUDIBRAS, 

B' a general of the Cavaliers 

"Was dragg'd through a window by the ears ; 

80 he was serv'd in his redoubt, 114A 

And by the other end pull'd out. 

Soon as they had him at their mercy, 
They put him to the cudgel fiercely, 
As if they 'd scorn'd to trade or barter, 
By giving or by taking quarter ; iito 

They stoutly on his quarters laid. 
Until his scouts came in t' his aid : 
For when a man is past his sense. 
There 's no way to reduce him thence 
But twinging him by th' ears or nose, nu 

Or laying on of heavy blows ; 
And, if that will not do the deed, 
To burning with hot irons proceed. 
No sooner was he come t* himself, 
But on his neck a sturdy elf 1160 

Clapp'd, in a trice, his cloven hoof, 
And thus attack'd him with reproof: 

Mortal, thou art betray'd to us 
B' our friend, thy evil genius, 
Who, for thy horrid perjuries, ii65 

Thy breach of faith, and turning lies. 
The Brethren's privilege (against 
The Wicked), on themselves, the Saints, 
Has here thy wretched carcase sent 
For just revenge and punishment, it*- 

"Which thou hast now no way to lessen 
But by an open free confession ; 



PART III. CANTO I. 299 

For if we catch thee failing once, 
'Twill fall the heavier on thy bones. 

What made thee venture to betray iK 

And filch the Lady's heart away, 
To spirit her to matrimony ? — 
That which contracts all matches, money. 
It was th' inchantment of her riches 
That made m' apply t' your crony witches ; iiso 
That in return would pay th' expense, 
The wear and tear of conscience, 
Which I could have patch'd up and tum'd 
For th' hundredth part of what I earn'd. — 

Didst thou not love her then ? speak true. — 
No more (quoth he) than I love you. — 
How would'st thou 'ave us'd her and her money ? — 
First turn'd her up to alimony. 
And laid her dowry out m law 
To null her jointure with a flaw, 1190 

Which I beforehand had agreed 
T' have put on purpose in the deed. 
And bar her widow's making over 
T' a friend in trust, or private lover. — 

What made thee pick and choose her out 1195 
T' employ their sorceries about? — 
That which makes gamesters play with those 
Who have least wit, and most to lose. — 
But didst thou scourge thy vessel thus, 
As thou hast damn'd thyself to us ? — lao^ 

I see you take me for an ass : 
'Tis true, I thought the trick would pass 



300 HUDIBRAS. 

Upon a woman well enough, 

As 't has been often found by proof, 

Whose humours are not to be won 130A 

But when they are impos'd upon ; 

For Love approves of all they do 

That stand for candidates, and woo. — 

Why didst thou forge those shameful lies 
Of bears and witches in disguise ? — 1210 

That is no more than authors give 
The rabble credit to believe ; 
A trick of following their leaders 
To entertain their gentle readers : 
And we have now no other way laifl 

Of passing all we do or say ; 
Which, when 'tis natural and true, 
Will be beUev'd b' a very few. 
Beside the danger of offence, 
The fatal enemy of sense. — isso 

Why didst thou choose that cursed sin, 
Hypocrisy, to set up in ? — 

Because it is the thriving'st calHng, 
The only saints'-bell that rings all in ; 
In which all Churches are concern'd, 1225 

And is the easiest to be learn'd : 
For no degrees, unless they employ % 
Can ever gain much or enjoy 't : 
A gift that is not only able 

To domineer among the rabble, issc 

But by the laws impower'd to rout 
A.nd awe the greatest that stand out ; 



PAllT m. CANTO I. 301 



1-239 



1240 



134« 



Which few hold forth against, for fear 
Their hands should slip and come too near; 
For no sin else, among the Saints, 
Is taught so tenderly against. — 

What made thee break thy plighted vows? — 
Thafwhich nfakes' others break a house, 
And hang, and scorn you all, before 
Endure the plague of being poor. 

Quoth he, I see you have more tricks 
Than all our doting politics. 
That are grown old and out of fashion, 
Compar'd with your new Reformation ; 
That we must come to school to you 
To learn your more refin'd and new. 

Quoth he. If you will give me leave 
To tell you what I now perceive, 
You '11 find yourself an errant chouse 
If y' were but at a Meeting-house. iSM 

'Tis true (quoth he), we ne'er come there, 
Because w' have let 'em out by th' year. 

Truly (quoth he), you can't imagine 
What wondrous things they wiU engage in ; 
That as your fellow fiends in hell 126* 

Were angels all before they fell. 
So are you like to be agen 
Compar'd with th' angels of us men. 

Quoth he, I am resolv'd to be 
Thy scholar in this mystery ; 
And therefore first desire to know 
Some principles on which you go. 



1-261M 



302 HUDIBRAS. 

What makes a knave a child of God, 
Ajid one of us ? — A livelihood. — 
What renders beating out of brains laes 

And murther godliness ? — Great gains. 

What 's tender conscience ? — 'Tis a botch 
That will not bear the gentlest touch ; 
But, breaking out, dispatches more 
Than th' epidemical'st plague-sore. 1270 

What makes y' incroach upon our trade, 
And damn all others ? — To be paid. — 
What 's orthodox and true beUeving 
Against a conscience ? — A good living. 

What makes rebelling against kings i37« 

A good old Cause ? — Administ'rings. 

What makes all doctrines plain and clear ? — 
About two hundred pounds a-year. 

And that which was prov'd true before 
Prove false again ? — Two hundred more. 128O 

What makes the breaking of all oaths 
A holy duty ? — Food and clothes. 

What laws and freedom persecution ? — - 
B'ing out of power and contribution. 

What makes a church a den of thieves ? — uss 
A dean and Chapter and white sleeves. 

And what would serve, if those were gone, 
To make it orthodox ? — Our own. 

What makes morality a crime 
The most notorious of the time ; 1390 

Morality, which both the Saints 
And Wicked too cry out against ? — 



PART III. CANTO I. 303 

Cause grace and virtue are within 
Prohibited degrees of kin ; 

And therefore no true Saint allows uw 

They shall be suffer'd to espouse ; 
For Saints can need no conscience 
That with morality dispense; 
As virtue 's impious when 'tis rooted 
In nature only, and not imputed : moo 

But why the Wicked should do so 
We neither know, nor care to do. 

What 's liberty of conscience, 
I' th' natural and genuine sense ? 
'Tis to restore with more security i8o» 

Rebellion to its ancient purity ; 
And Christian liberty reduce 
To th' elder practice of the Jews : 
For a large conscience is all one, 
And signifies the same with none. Mio 

It is enough (quoth he) for once, 
And has repriev'd thy forfeit bones : 
Nick Machiavel had ne'er a trick 
(Though he gave his name to our Old Nick) 
But was below the least of these i3i5 

That pass i' th' world for holiness. 
This said, the Furies and the light 
In th' instant vanish'd out of sight. 
And left him in the dark alone, 
With stinks of brimstone and his own. bio 

The Queen of Night, whose large command 
Rules all the sea and half the land 



304 HUDIBRAS. 

And over moist and crazy brains, 

In high spring-tides, at midnight reigns, 

Was now declining to the west, iS35 

To go to bed and take her rest ; 

When Hudibras, whose stubborn blows 

Deny'd his bones that soft rep(^6. 

Lay still, expecting worse and more, 

Stretch'd out at length upon the floor ; 1330 

And, though he shut his eyes as fast 

As if h' had been to sleep his last, 

Saw all the shapes that fear or wizai'ds 

Do make the devil wear for vizards, 

And, pricking up his ears to hark 133a 

If he could hear too in the dark. 

Was first invaded with a groan. 

And after, in a feeble tone, 

These trembling words : Unhappy wretch ! 

Wliat hast thou gotten ^by this fetch, 134c 

Or all thy tricks, in this new trade. 

Thy holy Brotherhood o' th' blade ? 

By saunt'ring still on some adventure, 

And growing to thy horse a Centaur ? 

To stuff thy skin with swelling knobs 1345 

Of cruel and hard-wooded drubs ? 

For still th' hast had the worst on 't yet, 

As well in conquest as defeat. 

Night is the sabbath of mankind. 

To rest the body and the mind, issc 

Which now thou art deny'd to keep, 

4nd cure thy labour'd corpse with sleep. 



PART III. CANTO T. 305 

The Knight, who heard the words, explain'd 
As meant to him this reprimand. 
Because the character did hit 1355 

Point-blank upon his case so fit ; 
Believ'd it was some drolling spright 
That stay'd upon the guard that night, 
And one of those h' had seen, and felt 
The drubs he had so freely dealt ; i360 

When, after a short pause and groan. 
The doleful Spirit thus went on : 

This 'tis t' engage with Dogs and Bears 
Pell-mell together by the ears, 
Ajid, after painful bangs and knocks, ises 

To lie in limbo in the stocks. 
And from the pinnacle of glory 
Fall headlong into purgatory — 

(Thought he, This devil 's full of malice, 
That on my late disaster rallies ;) — 1370 

Condemn'd to whipping, but declin'd it, 
By being more heroic-minded ; 
And at a riding handled worse, 
With treats more slovenly and coarse ; 
Engag'd with fiends in stubborn wars, 1375 

And hot disputes with conjurers ; 
And, when th' hadst bravely won the day, 
Wast fain to steal thyself away — 

(I see, thought he, this shameless elf 
Would fain steal me too from myself, issc 

That impudently dares to own 
What I have suffer'd for and done) — 



806 HUDIBRAS. 

And now, but vent'ring to betray, 
Hast met with vengeance the same way. 

Thought he. How does the devil know issfi 

"Wliat 'twas that I design'd to do ? 
His office of intelligence, 
His oracles are ceas'd long since ; 
And he knows nothing of the Saints, 
But what some treach'rous spy acquaints. 1390 

This is some pettifogging fiend, 
Some under door-keeper's friend's friend, 
That undertakes to understand, 
And Juggles at the second-hand, 
And now would pass for Spirit Po, i396 

And all men's dark concerns foreknow. 
I think I need not feai* him for 't ; 
These rallying devils do no hurt. 
With that he rous'd his drooping heart, 
And hastily cry'd out, What art ? uoo 

A wretch (quoth he) whom want of grace 
Has brought to this unhappy place. — 
I do believe thee, quotli tlie Knight ; 
Thus far I 'm sure thou 'rt in the right, 
And know what 'tis that troubles thee uc 

Better than thou hast guess'd of me. 
Thou art some paltry blackguard spright, 
Condemn'd to drudg'ry in the night; 
Thou hast no work to do in th' house, 
Nor halfpenny to drop in shoes ; uif 

Without the raising of which sum 
You dare not be so troublesome, 



PART III. CANTO I. 307 

To pinch the slatterns black and blue, 

For leaving you their work to do. 

This is your bus'ness, good Pug-Robin, uis 

And your diversion dull dry bobbing, 

T' entice fanatics in the dirt. 

And wash 'em clean in ditches for 't ; 

Of which conceit you are so proud. 

At ev'ry jest you laugh aloud, 1420 

As now you would have done by me, 

But that I barr'd your raillery. 

Sir (quoth the Voice), y' are no such sophi 
As you would have the world judge of ye. 
If you design to weigh our talents i498 

I* th' standard of your own false balance, 
Or think it possible to know 
Us ghosts, as well as we do you, 
"We who have been the everlasting 
Companions of your drubs and basting, i430 

And never left you in contest. 
With male or female, man or beast, 
But prov'd as true t' ye, and entire, 
In all adventures as your Squire. 

Quoth he. That may be said as true 143S 

By th' idlest pug of all your crew : 
For none could have betray'd us worse 
Than those allies of ours and yours. 
But I have sent him for a token 
To your low country Hogen-Mogen, 1440 

To whose infernal shores I hope 
He '11 swing like skippers in a rope : 



308 HUDIBRAS. 

And if y' have been more just to me 

(As 1 am apt to think) than he, 

I am afraid it is as true 144I 

What th' ill-affected say of you ; 

Ye 've 'spous'd the Covenant and Cause, 

By holding up your cloven paws. 

Sir (quoth the Voice), 'tis true, I grant, 
We made and took the Covenant ; i450 

But that no more concerns the Cause, 
Than other perj'ries do the laws. 
Which, when they 're prov'd in open court, 
Wear wooden peccadilloes for 't : 
And that 's the reason Cov'nanters 1458 

Hold up their hands like rogues at bars. .. 

I see (quoth Hudibras) from whence 
These scandals of the Saints commence, 
That are but natural effects 
Of Satan's malice and his sects, i460 

Those spider-saints that hang by threads 
Spun out o' th' entrails of their heads. 

Sir (quoth the Voice), that may as true 
And properly be said of you, 
AVliose talents may compare with either, 146j 

Or both the other put together : 
For all the Independents do 
Is only what you forc'd 'em to ; 
You, who are not content alone 
With tricks to put the devil down, 1411 

But must have armies rais'd to hsak 
The gospel-work you undertake ; 



PART III. CANIO I. 309 

As if artillery and edge-tools 

Were th' only engines to save souls: 

AVliile he, poor devil, has no pow'r 147s 

By force to run down and devour ; 

Has ne'er a Classis, cannot sentence 

To stools, or poundage of repentance ; 

Is ty'd up only to design 

T' entice and tempt and undermine : 1480 

In which you all his arts outdo. 

And prove yourselves his betters too. 

Hence 'tis possessions do less evil 

Than mere temptations of the devil, 

Which all the horrid'st actions done i486 

Are charg'd in courts of law upon ; 

Because, unless they help the elf, 

He can do Httle of himself ; 

And therefore where he 's best possest 

Acts most against his interest ; U90 

Surprises none but those who 've priests 

To turn him out, and exorcists, 

Supply'd with spiritual provision. 

And magazines of ammunition ; 

With crosses, relics, crucifixes, uu 

Beads, pictures, rosaries, and pixes ; 

The tools of working out salvation 

By mere mechanic operation : 

With holy water, like a sluice, 

To overflow all avenues : i-500 

But those who 'I'e utterly unarm'd, 

X' oppose his entrance if he storm'd, 



310 IIUOIBRAS- 

He never offers to surprise, 

Although his falsest enemies ; 

But is content to be their drudge, 1M8 

And on their errands glad to trudge : 

For where are all your forfeitures 

Intrusted in safe hands, but ours ? 

Who are but jailors of the holes 

And dungeons where you clap up souls ; i5io 

Like under-keepers, turn the keys 

T' your mittimus anathemas, 

And never boggle to restore 

The members you deliver o'er, 

Upon demand, with fairer justice 1515 

Than all your covenanting Trustees ; 

Unless, to punish them the worse. 

You put them in the secular pow'rs, 

And pass their souls, as some demise 

The same estate in mortgage twice ; 1520 

When to a legal utlegation 

You turn your excommunication. 

And for a groat unpaid that 's due. 

Distrain on soul and body too. 

Thought he, 'Tis no mean part of civil 1528 
State-prudence to cajole the devil. 
And not to handle him too rough, 
When h' has us in his cloven hoof. 

'Tis true (quoth he), that intercourse 
Has pass'd between your friends and ours, isss 
That, as you trust us, in our way. 
To raise your members and to lay, 



PAKT III. CANTO I. 811 

We send you others of our o\vn, 

Denounc'd to haog themselves or drown, 

Or, frighted with our oratory, IMS 

To leap down headlong many a story ; 

Have us'd all means to propagate 

Your mighty interests of state, 

Laid out our sp'ritual gifts to further 

Your great designs of rage and murther : 1540 

For if the Saints are nam*d from blood. 

We only Ve made that title good ; 

And, if it were but in our power. 

We should not scruple to do more, 

And not be half a soul behind inn 

Of all Dissenters of mankind. 

Right (quoth the Voice), and, as I scorn 
To be ungrateful, in return 
Of all those kind good offices, 
I *11 free you out of this distress, leso 

And set you down in safety, where 
It is no time to tell you here. 
The cock crows, and the morn draws on, 
When 'tis decreed I must be gone ; 
And if I leave you here till day, 1555 

You '11 find it hard to get away. 
With that the Spirit grop'd about 
To find th' inchanted hero out, 
And try'd with haste to lift him up, 
But found his forlorn hope, his crup, 1560 

Unserviceable with kicks and blows 
Receiv'd from harden'd hearted foes. 



312 HUDIBRAS. 

He thought to drag him by the heels, 

Like Gresham-carts with legs for wheels ; 

But fear, that soonest cures those sores, i565 

In danger of relapse to worse, 

Came in t' assist him with his aid, 

And up his sinking vessel weigh'd. 

No sooner was he fit to trudge, 

But both made ready to dislodge ; 1570 

The Spirit hors'd him like a sack, 

Upon the vehicle his back. 

And bore him headlong into th' hall, 

With some few rubs against the wall ; 

Where, finding out the postern lock'd, uis 

And th' avenues as strongly block'd, 

H' attack'd the window, storm'd the glass, 

And in a moment gain'd the pass ; 

Through which he dragg'd the worsted soldier's 

Fore-quarters out by th' head and shoulders, 1590 

And cautiously began to scout 

To find their fellow-cattle out ; 

Nor was it half a minute's quest 

Ere he retriev'd the champion's beast, 

Ty'd to a pale, instead of rack, i585 

But ne'er a saddle on his back. 

Nor pistols at the saddle bow, 

Convey'd away, the Lord knows how. 

He thought it was no time to stay. 

And let the night too steal away ; i5W 

V. 1575. Var. ' th' outer postern. 



PART III. CANTO I. 313 

But in a trice advanc'd the Knight 

Upon the bare ridge, bolt upright, 

And, groping out for Ralpho's jade, 

He found the saddle too was stray'd, 

And in the place a lump of soap, idM 

On which he speedily leap'd up ; 

And, turning to the gate the rein, 

He kick'd and cudgel'd on amain ; 

While Hudibras with equal haste 

On both sides laid about as fast, 1606 

And spurr'd, as jockeys use to break, 

Or padders to secure, a neck : 

AVhere let us leave 'em for a time, 

And to their Churches turn our rhyme ; 

To hold forth their declining state, imf 

Which now come near an even rate. 



END OP VOL. I. 



THE POETICAL WORKS 



OP 



SAMUEL BUTLEE. 



VOLUME II. 



HUDIBRAS. 

PART III. CANTO II. 

THE ARGUMENT. 

The saints engage in fierce contests 
About their carnal interests, 
To share their sacrilegious preys 
Accor(^ng to their rates of Grace ? 
Their various frenzies to refoim, 
When Cromwell left them in a storm; 
Till, in th' effige of Rumps, the rabble 
Bum all then- Grandees of the Cabal. 

The learned write an insect breese 

Is but a mongrel prince of bees, 

Tiiat falls before a storm on cows, 

And stings the founders of his house, 

From whose corrupted flesh that breed e 

Of vermin did at first proceed. 

So, ere the storm of war broke out, 

Religion spawn'd a various rout 

This Canto is entirely independent of the adventures of 
Hudibras and Ralpho; neither of our heroes make their ap- 
pearance: other characters are inti-oduced. The Poet skips 
from the time wherein these adventures happened to Crom- 
well s death, and from thence to the dissolution of the Rump 
Parliament. 

vol.. TT. 1 



2 HUDIBUAS. 

Of petulant capricious sects, 

The maggots of corrupted texts, m 

That first run all religion down, 

And after ev'ry swarm its own ; 

For as the Persian Magi once 

Upon their mothers got their sons, 

That were incapable t* enjoy is 

That empire any other way ; 

So Presbyter begot the other 

Upon the Good Old Cause, his mother, 

Then bore them like the devil's dam, 

Whose son and husband are the same ; 20 

And yet no nat'ral tie of blood, 

Nor int'rest for their common good. 

Could, when their profits interfer'd. 

Get quarter for each other's beard : 

For when they thriv'd they never fadg'd, 2i 

But only by tlie ears engag'd ; 

Like dogs that snarl about a bone. 

And play together when they've none ; 

As by their truest characters, 

Their constant actions, plainly' appears. 30 

Rebellion now began for lack 

Of zeal and plunder to grow slack, 

The Cause and Covenant to lessen, 

And Providence to be out of season : 

For now there was no more to purchase 35 

O' th' King's revenue and the Churches. 

But all divided, shar'd, and gone. 

That us'd to urge the Brethren on ; 



PART III. CAJ^TO II. 3 

Whhh forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause 

To cross the cudgels to the laws, 40 

That, what by breaking them th' had gain'd, 

By their support might be maintain'd ; 

Like tliieves, that in a hemp-plot lie, 

Secur'd against the Hue-and-cry ; 

For Presbyter and Independent 45 

Were now turn'd Plaintiff and Defendant ; 

Laid out their apostolic functions 

On carnal Orders and Lijunctions ; 

And all their precious Gifts and Graces 

On Outlawries and Scire facias ; so 

At Michael's term had many trial, 

Worse than the Dragon and St. Michael, 

Where thousands fell, in shape of fees. 

Into the bottomless abyss. 

For when, like brethren, and like, friends, 55 

They came to share their dividends, 

And ev'ry partner to possess 

His church and state joint-purchases. 

In which the ablest Saint, and best, 

Was nam'd in trust by all the rest 60 

To pay their money, and, instead 

Of ev'ry Brother, pass the deed, 

He straight converted all his gifts 

To pious frauds and holy shifts, 

And settled all the other shares 6i 

Upon his outward man and 's heirs ; 

Held all they claira'd as forfeit lands 

Deliver'd up into his hands, 



* IIUDIBRAS. 

And pass'd upon his conscience 

I>j pre-entail of Providence; w 

Impeach'd the rest for Reprobates 

That had no titles to estates, 

But by their spiritual attamts 

Degraded from the right of Saints. 

This b'ing reveal'd, they now begun it 

With law and conscience to fall on, 

And laid about as hot and brain-sick 

As th' Utter barrister of Swanswick ; 

Engag'd with money-bags, as bold 

As men with sand-bags did of old, sr 

'Jliat brought the lawyers in more fees 

Than all unsanctify'd Trustees : 

Till he who had no more to show 

I' th' case, receiv'd the overthrow ; 

Or, both sides having had the worst, m 

They parted as they met at first. 

Poor Presbyter was now reduc'd, 

Secluded, and cashier'd, and chous'd ! 

Tum'd out, and excommunicate. 

From all affairs of Church and State, «« 

Reform'd t' a reformado Saint, 

And glad to turn itinerant. 

To stroll and teach from town to town, 

And those he had taught up teach down, 

And make those uses serve agen $• 

Against the New-enlighten'd men, 

As fit as when at first they were 

Ueveal'd against the Cavalier ; 



PART 111. CANTO II. ^ 

Damn Anabaptist and Fanatic, 

As pat as Popish and Prelatic ; »ot 

And, with as little variation, 

To serve for any sect i' th' nation. 

The Good Old Cause, which some believe 

To be the dev'l that tempted Eve 

With knowledge, and does still invite lofl 

The world to mischief with New Light, 

Had store of money in her purse 

When he took her for bett'r or worse, 

But now was grown deformed and poor, 

And fit to be turn'd out of door. i" 

The Independents (whose first station 
Was in the rear of Reformation, 
A mongrel kind of Church-dragoons, 
That serv'd for horse and foot at once, 
And in the saddle of one steed iw 

The Saracen and Christian rid ; 
Were free of ev'ry spiritual order. 
To preach and fight, and pray and murder) 

V. 118. The officers and soldiers among the Independents 
g.^t into pulpits, and preached and prayed as weU as fought. 
Oliver CromweU was famed for a preacher, and has a ser- 
«on* in print, entitled, 'Cromwell's Learned, Devout, and 
Conscientious Exercise, held at Sh- Peter Temple's, in Lm 
coln's-Inn-Fields, upon Rom. xiii. 1,' in which are the follow 
•n,g flowers of rhetoric : " Dearly beloved brethren and sisters 
••t is true this text is a malignant one; the wicked and ungodly 
have abused it very much; but thanks be to God, it was to 

their own ruin." p. 1. . „ri_.u 

" But now that 1 spoke of kings, the question is, Whethd 

* This, however, is now weU known to be an imposture. 



6 HUDIimAS. 

No sooner got the start, to lurch 

Both disciplmes of War and Church, lao 

And Providence enough to run 

The chief commanders of them down. 



by the 'higher powers' are meant kings or commoners? 
Truly, beloved, it is a very great question among those that 
are learned: for may not every one that can read obsei've, 
that Paul speaks in the plural number, 'higher powers?' 
Now, had he meant subjection to a king, he would have said, 
' Let every soul be subject to the * higher power,' ' if he had 
meant one man ; but by this you see he meant more than 
one ; he bids us ' be subject to the ' higher powers,' ' that is, 
the Council of State, the House of Conmions, and the Army." 
ib. p. 8. 

When in the 'Humble Petition' there was inserted an 
article against public preachers being members of Parliament, 
Oliver Cromwell excepted against it expressly: " Because he 
(he said) was one, and divers officers of the army, by whom 
much good had been done — and therefore desired they would 
explain their article." — * Heath's Chronicle,' p. 408. 

Sir Roger L'Estrange observes ('Reflections upon Pog- 
gius's Fable of the Husband, Wife, and Ghostly Father,' 
Part I. Fab. 357), upon the pretended saints of those times, 
" That they did not set one step in the whole tract of this ini- 
quity, without seeking the Lord first, and going up to enquire 
of the Lord, according to the cant of those days ; which was 
no other than to make God the author of sin, and to impute 
the blackest practices of hell to the inspiration of the Holy 
Ghost." 

It was with this pretext of seeking the Lord in prayer, that 
Cromwell, L-eton, Harrison, and others of the regicides, ca- 
joled General Fairfax, who was detennined to rescue the 
king from execution, ^ving orders to have it speedily done : 
and, when they had notice that it was over, they persuaded 
the General that this was a full return of prayer ; and God 
having so manifested his pleasure, they ought to acquiesce in 
«t — ' Pei'encliicrs Life of Kinsr Charles L' 



PART III. CANTO 11. ' 

But carry 'd on the war against 

The common enemy o* th' Saints, 

And in a while prevail'd so far, isa 

To win of them the game of war, 

And be at liberty once more 

T' attack themselves as th' had before. 

For now there was no foe in arms 
T' unite their factions with alarms, 130 

But all reduc'd and overcome. 
Except their worst, themselves, at home, 
Who 'ad compass'd all they pray'd and swore, 
And fought, and preach'd, and plunder'd for, 
Subdu'd the Nation, Church, and State, laa 

And all things but their laws and hate ; 
But when they came to treat and transact 
And shared the spoil of all th' had ransack t, 
To botch up what th' had torn and rent, 
Religion and the Government, u< 

They met no sooner, but prepar'd 
To pull down all the war had spar'd ; 
Agreed in nothing but t' abolish, 
Subvert, extirpate, and demolish : 
For knaves and fools b'ing near of kin, \a-> 

As Dutch boors are t' a sooterkin. 
Both parties join'd to do their best 
To damn the pubhc interest, 
.Ajid herded only in consults, 
To put by one another's bolts ; itr 

r' out-cant the Babylonian lab'rers, 
A.t all their dialects of jabb'rers. 



B HUDIBRAS. 

And tug at both ends of the saw, 

To tear down government and law. 

For as two cheats that play one game, i&i 

Are both defeated of their aim ; 

So those who play a game of state, 

And only cavil in debate, 

Although there's nothing lost nor won, 

The public bus'ness is undone, leo 

Wliich still, the longer 'tis in doing. 

Becomes the surer way to ruin. 

This when the Royalists perceiv'd, 
(Who to their faith as firmly cleav'd, 
And own'd the right they had paid down las 

So dearly for, the Church and Crown) 
Th' united constanter, and sided 
The more, the more their foes divided : 
For though out-number'^d, overthrown, 
And by the fate of wai* run down, no 

Their duty never was defeated, 
Nor from their oaths and faith retreated 
For loyalty is still the same, 
Whether it win or lose the game ; 
True as the dial to the Sun, na 

Although it be not shin'd upon. 
But when these Brethren in evil. 
Their adversaries, and the Devil, 
Began once more to shew them play, 
4nd hopes at least to have a day, \§» 

They rally'd in parades of woods. 
And unfrequented solitudes ; 



PART III. CANTO H. J 

Conven'd al midnight in out-houses, 

T* appoint new-rising rendezvouses, 

And, with a pertinacy' unmatched, isa 

For new recruits of danger watch'd. 

No sooner was one blow diverted, 

But up another party started, 

And as if Nature too, in haste 

To furnish out suppUes as fast, i^ 

Before her time had turn'd destruction 

T' a new and numerous production ; 

No sooner those were overcome 

But up rose others in their room, 

That, like the Christian faith, increast IM 

The more, the more they were supprest- 

Whom neither chains nor transportation, 

Proscription, sale, or confiscation, 

Nor all the desperate events 

Of former try'd experiments, 200 

Nor wounds could terrify, nor mangling^ 

To leave off Loyalty and dangling. 

V. 201, 202. The brave spirit of loyalty was not to be sup- 
pressed b^ the most barbarous and inhuman usage. There 
are several remarkable instances upon record ; as that of the 
gallant Marquis of Montrose, the Toyal Mr. Gerrard, and Mr. 
Vowel, in 1654; of Mr. Penruddock, Grove, and others, who 
■suffered for theu* loyalty at Exeter, 1654-5; of Captain Key 
aolds, who had been of the King's party, and, when he wns 
going to be turned off the ladder, cried, God bless King 
Charles, * Vive le Roi ; ' of Dalgelly, one of Montrose's party 
who being sentenced to be beheaded, and being brought to 
the scaffold, ran and kissed it: and, without any speech o» 



10 HUDIBRAS. 

Nor Death (with all his bones) affright 

From vent'ring to maintain the right, 

From staking life and fortune down 3ot 

'Gainst all together, for the Crown ; 

But kept the title of their cause 

From forfeiture like claims in laws ; 

And prov'd no prosp'rous usurpation 

Can ever settle on the nation ; 210 

Until, in spite of force and treason, 

They put their loyalty in possession ; 

And, by their constancy and faith, 

Destroy'd the mighty men of Gath. 

Toss'd in a furious hurricane, 215 

Did Oliver give up his reign. 



ceremony, laid down his head upon the block and was be- 
headed ; of the brave Sir Robert Spotiswood ; of Mr. Court- 
ney, and Mr. Portman, who were committed to the Tower the 
beginning of February, 1657, for dispersing among the soldiers 
what were then called ' seditious ' books and pamphlets. 

Nor ought the loyalty of the six counties of North Wales to 
be passed over in silence, who never addressed or petitioned 
during the Usurpation ; nor the common soldier mentioned in 
the * Oxford Diurnal,' first Week, p. 6. See more in the story 
of the ' Impertinent Sheriflf,' L'Estrange's ' Fables,' Part II. 
Fab. 265. Mr. Butler, or Mr. Pryn, speaking of the gallant 
behaviour of the Loyalists, says, " Other nations would have 
canonized for martyrs, and erected statues after their death, 
to the memory of some of our compatriots, whom ye have 
Larbarously defaced and mangled, yet aKve, for no other mo- 
tive than undaunted zeal." 

V. 215, 216. At Oliver's death was a most furious tem- 
pest, such as had not been known in the memory of man, or 
»ardly ever recorded to have been in this nation. It is ob 



PART III. CANTO II. 11 

A^iid was belie v'd, as well by Saints 

As mortal men and miscreants, 

To founder in the Stygian ferry, 

Until he was retriev'd by S terry, aso 



Berved, in a tract entitled, * No Fool to the old Fool,' L'Es- 
trange's ' Apology,' p. 93, " That Ohver, after a long course 
of treason, murder, sacrilege, perjury, rapine, &c. finished his 
accursed life in agony and fury, and without any mark of true 
repentance." Though most of our historians mention the 
hurricane at his death, yet few take notice of the stonn in the 
northern counties, that day the House of Peers ordered the 
digging up his carcase, with other regicides. The author of 
the ' Parley between the Ghost of the late Protector and the 
King of Sweden in Hell,' 1660, p. 19, merrily observes, " That 
he was even so turbulent and seditious there, that he was 
chained, by way of punishment, in the genei*al pissing place, 
next the court-door, with a strict charge that nobody that 
made water thereabouts should piss any-where but against 
his body." 

V. 220. The news of Oliver's death being brought to those 
who were met to pray for him, Jilr. Peter Sterry stood up, and 
desired them not to be troubled; " For (said he) this is good 
news, because, if he was of use to the people of God when he 
was amongst us, he will be much more so now, being ascend- 
ed into heaven, at the right hand of Jesus Christ, there to in- 
tercede for us, and to be mindful of us upon all occasions." 
Dr. South makes mention of an Independent divine (Sermons, 
vol. i. serm. iii. p. 102) who, when Ohver was sick, of which 
sickness he died, declared, " That God revealed to him that he 
should recover, and live thirty years longer; for that God had 
raised him up for a work which could not be done in a less 
time." But Oliver's death being pubhshed two days after, 
the said divine pubUckly in his prayers expostulated with God 
the defeat of his prophecy in these words : " Thou hast lied 
anto us; yea, thou hast bed unto us." 

So familiar were those wretches with God Almighty, tha. 



12 IIUI)IBKAS» 

Who, ill a false erroneous dream, 

Mistook the New Jerusalem 

Profanely for the apocryphal 

False Heaven at the end o' th' Hall ; 

Whither it was decreed by Fate tu 

His precious reliqiies to translate : 

So Romulus was seen before 

B' as orthodox a senator, 

From whose divine illumination 

He stole the Pagan revelation. aac 

Next him his son and heir-apparent 
Succeeded, though a lame vicegerent ; 

Dr. Echard observes of one of them, " That he pretended to 
have got such an mte'rest in Christ, and such an exact know- 
ledge of affairs above, that he could tell the people that he had 
just before received an express from Jesus upon such a busi- 
ness, and that the ink was scarce dry upon the paper." 

V. 224. After the Restoration Oliver's body was dug up, 
and his head set up at the farther end of Westminster-hall, 
near which place there is a house of entertainment, which is 
'Commonly known by the name of 'Heaven.' 

V. 231, 232. Oliver's eldest son, Richard, was by him, be 
fore his death, declared his successor; and, by order of the 
Privy Council, proclaimed Lord Protector, and received the 
compliments of congratulation and condolence at the same 
lime from the Lord Mayor and Court of Aldermen ; and ad- 
dresses were presented to him from all parts of the nation, 
promising to stand by him with their Uves and fortunes. He 
summoned a parliament to meet at Westminster, which re- 
cognised him Lord Protector; yet, notwithstanding, Fleetwood, 
Desborough, and their partisans, managed affairs so, that he 
was obliged to resign. 

What opinion the world had of him we leam from Lord Cla- 
rendon's account of his visit 'incog.' to the Prince of Couti at 



PART III. CANTO II. 13 

Who first laid by the Parrament, 
The only crutch on which he leant, 
And then sunk underneath the state, 235 

That rode him above horseman's weight. 
And now the Saints began their reign, 
For which they 'ad yearn'd so long in vain, 
And felt such bowel-hankerings 

Pezenas, who received him civilly, as he did all strana^ers, and 
particularly the English; and, after a few words (not know- 
ing who he was), the Prince began to discourse of the affairs 
of England, and asked many questions concerning the King, 
and whether all men were quiet, and submitted obediently 
to him ? Avhich the other answered according to the truth. 
"Well," said the Prince, "Oliver, though he was a traitor 
and a villain, Avas a brave fellow, had great parts, great cour- 
age, and was worthy to command : but for that Richard, that 
coxcomb, coquin, poltroon, he was surely the basest fellow 
alive. What is become of that fool V How is it possible he 
could be such a sot? " He answered, " That he was betrayed 
by those he most trusted, and had been most obliged to his 
father." So being weary of his visit, he quickly took his 
leave, and next morning left the town, out of fear that the 
Prince might know that he was the very fool and coxcomb he 
had mentioned so kindly ; and two days after the Prince did 
come to know who he was that he had treated so well. — Cla- 
rendon's History of the Rebellion, vol. iii. p- 519. See a cu- 
rious anecdote of Richard Cromwell in Dr. Maty's Memoirs 
of Lord Chesterfield. 

V. 237. A sneer upon the Committee of Safety, amongst 
whom was Sir Henry Vane, who (as Lord Clarendon ob- 
serves) "was a perfect enthusiast, and without doubt did be- 
lieve himself inspired ; which so far corrupted his reason and 
understanding, that he did at the same time believe he was 
the person deputed to reign over the saints upon earth for a 
thousand years." 



14 HLDIIillAS. 

To see an empire, all of kings, 2t4 

DeliverVl from th' Egyptian awe 

Of justice, government, and law, 

And free t' erect what sp'ritual cantons 

Should be reveal'd, or gospel Hans-towrs, 

To edify upon the ruins «4i 

Of John of Leyden's old outgoings, 

Who, for a weather-cock hung up 

Upon their mother-church's top, 

Was made a type by Providence 

Of all their revelations since, asfl 

And now fulfill'd by his successors. 

Who equally mistook their measures : 

For when they came to shape the model, 

Not one could fit another's noddle ; 

But found their Lisjht and Gifts more wide ass 

From fadging than th' unsanctify'd, 

While every mdividual Brother 

Strove hand to fist against another. 

And still the maddest and most crackt 

Were found the busiest to transact ; 260 



V. 241, 242. Dr. James Young observes, " that two Je- 
snitical progiiosticators, Lilly and Culpeper, were so confi- 
dent, anno 1652, of the total subversion of the law and gospel 
ministry, that in their scurrilous prognostications they pre- 
dicted the downfall of both ; and, in 1654, they foretold, thai 
\he law should be pulled down to the ground, the Great 
Charter and all our liberties destroyed, as not suiting with 
iMiglishnien in these blessed times ; that the crab-tree of the 
law should be pulled up by the roots, and grow no more, there 
being no reason now we should be governed by them " 



PART in. CANTO IF. lO 

For though most hands dispatch apace 

And make light work (the proverb says), 

Yet many diff'rent intellects 

Are found t' have contrary effects; 

And many heads t' obstruct intrigues, 26S 

As slowest insects have most legs. 

Some were for setting up a king, 
But all the rest for no such thing, 
Unless King Jesus : others tamper d 
For Fleetwood, Desborough, and Lambert ; q7o 



V. 267, 268. Harry Martyn, in his speech in the deb;itc 
Whether a King or no King? said, " That, if they nnist 
have a King, they had rather have had the last than any 
gentleman in England. He found no fault in his person but 
office." 

V. 269. Alluding to the Fifth Monarchy men, who had 
formed a plot to dethrone Cromwell, and set up King Jesus. 

V. 269, 270. Fleetwood was a lieutenant-general; he mar- 
ried Ireton's widow, Oliver Cromwell's eldest daughter; was 
made lord-Ueutenant of Ireland by Cromwell, major-general 
of divers counties, one of Oliver's upper house; his salaiy 
«sui nosed to be £ 6,600. a-year. Desborough, a yeoman of 
j£ 60. or £ 70. per annum ; some say a plowman. Bennet, 
speaking to Desborough, says, " When your Lordship was a 
plowman, and wore high shoon — Ha ! how the Lord raisetli 
some men, and depresseth others ! " Desborough man-led 
Cromwell's sister, cast away his spade, and took up a sword, 
and was made a colonel ; was instrumental in raising Crom- 
well to the Protectorship, upon which he was made one of his 
council, a general at sea, and major general of divers counties 
of the west ; and was one of Oliver's upper house. His an- 
nual income was £ 3,236. 13s. 4c?. 

V 270. Var. ' Lambard.' Lambert was one of the Eump 
generals, and a principal opposer of General Monk in the 
restoration of King Charles H. The writer of the Narrative 



l(j HUDIHRAS. 

Some for the Rump; and some, more crafty, 
For Agitators, and the Safety : 

of the late Parliament so called, 1657, p. 9, observes, " That 
Major-general Lambert, as one of Oliver's conncll, had £ 1000. 
per annum, which, with his other places, in all amounted to 
£ 6,512. 3s. 4cZ." 

V. 272. In 1C47 the Army made choice of a set number 
of officers, which they called the General Council of Officers : 
and the common soldiers made choice of three or four of 
each regiment, mostly corporals and serjeants, who were 
called by the name of Agitators, and were to be a House 
of Commons to the Council of Officers. These drew up a 
Declaration, that they would not be disbanded till their ar- 
rears were paid, and a full provision made for liberty of con- 
science. Some of the positions of the Agitators here follow : 
" That all inns of court and chancery, all courts of justice 
now erected, as well civil as ecclesiastical, with the common, 
civil, canon, and statute laws, formerly in force, and all cor- 
porations, tenures, copyholds, rents, and sei*vices, with all 
titles and degrees of honor, nobility, and gentry, elevating one 
free subject above another, may be totally abolished, as clogs, 
snares, and grievances to a free-born people, and inconsistent 
with that universal parity and equal condition which ought to 
be among freemen, and opposite to the communion of saints. 

" That all the lands and estates of deans, chapters, pre- 
bends, universities, colleges halls, free-schools, cities, corpora- 
I'ons, ministers' glebe -lands, and so much of the lands of the 
m bility, gentiy, and rich citizens and yeomen, as exceeds the 
sum of three hundred pounds per annum, and all the revenues 
of the Crown belonging to the King or his children, be equally 
divided between the officers and soldiers and the army, to 
satisfy their arrears, and recompense their good services." 

Committee pf Safety, a set of men who took upon them the 
government upon displacing the Rump a second time. Their 
number amounted to twenty-three, which, though filled up 
with men of all parties (Royalists excepted), yet was so 
craftily composed, that the balance was sufficiently secured 
to those of the annv fiiction. 



PART III. CANTO IT. 17 

JSome for the Gospel, and massacre? 

Of sp'ritual Affidavit-makers, 

That swore to any human regence '^'^^ 

Oaths of supremacy and allegiance. 

Yea though tlie ablest swearing Saint 

That vouch'd the bulls o' th' Covenant : 

Others for pulling down th' high places 

Of Synods and Provincial Classes, 9k» 

That us'd to make such hostile inroads 

Upon the Saints, like bloody Nimrods : 

Some for fulfilling Prophecies, 

And the extirpation of th' Excise ; 

And some against th' Egyptian bondage asa 

Of Holy-days, and paying Poundage : 

Some for the cutting down of Groves, 

And rectifying bakers' Loaves ; 

And some for finding out expedients 

Against the slav'ry of Obedience : o&o 

Some were for Gospel-ministers, 

And some for Red-coat Seculars, 

As men most fit t' hold forth the Word, 

And wield the one and th' other sword : 

Some were for carrying on the Work 296 

Against the Pope, and some the Turk ; 

Some for engaging to suppress 

The camisado of Surplices, 

That Gifts and Dispensations liinder'd. 

And turn'd to th' outward man the inward ; ax* 

More proper for the cloudy night 

Of Popery than Gospel-light: 

VOL. II. 2 



J8 nUDIBRAS. 

Others were for abolishing 

That tool of matrimony, a Ring, 

With which th' misanctify'd bridegroom sos 

Is marry'd only to a thumb 

(As wise as ringing of a pig. 

That us'd to break up ground and dig), 

The bride to nothing but her will, 

That nulls the after-marriage still : 8io 

Some were for th' utter extirpation 

Of Linsey-woolsey in the nation ; 

And some against all idoHsing 

The Cross in shop-books, or Baptising : 

Others, to make all things recant sis 

The Christian or Surname of Saint, 

And force all churches, streets, and towns, 

The holy title to renounce : 

Some 'gainst a third estate of Souls, 

And bringing down the price of Coals : 390 

Some for abolishing Black-pudding, 

And eating nothing with the blood in ; 

To abrogate them roots and branches, 

While others were for eating Haunches 

V. 308. Var. ' That is to.' ' That uses to. 

V. 317, 318. The Mayor of Colchester banished one of that 
town, for a malignant and a cavalier, in the year 1643, whose 
name was Parsons, and gave this learned reason for this ex- 
tmplary piece of justice, that it was an ominous name. 

V. 323. This was the spirit of the times. There was a pro- 
posal to carry twenty Royalists in front of Sir Thomas Fair- 
fax's army, to expose them to the fire of the enemy; and 
one Gourdon moved, " That the Lady Capel and her childrea 



PART III. CANTO II. 19 

Of warriors, and, now and then, 32a 

The Flesh of kings and mighty men ; 

And some for breaking of their Bones 

With rods of ir'n by secret ones ; 

For thrashing mountains, and with spells 

For hallowing carriers' packs and bells ; 330 

and the Lady Norwich, might be sent to the General with the 
same directions, saying, their husbands would be careful of 
their safety ; and when divers opposed so barbarous a motion, 
and alleged that Lady Capel was gi-eat with child, near her 
time, Gourdon pressed it the more eagerly, as if he had taken 
the General for a man-midwife. Nay, it was debated at a 
council of war to massacre and put to the sword all the 
King's party: the question put was carried in the negative 
but by two votes." Their endeavor was " how to diminish 
the number of their opposites, the Koyahsts and Presbyteri- 
ans, by a massacre ; for which purpose many dark lanthorns 
were provided last winter, 1649, which coming to the commor 
rumour of the town, put them in danger of the infamy and 
hatred that would overwhelm them : so this was laid aside.'' 
A bill was brought in, 1656, for decimating the Royahsts, but 
thrown out. And this spirit was but too much encouraged by 
their clergy. Mr. Caryl, in a ' Thanksgiving Sermon ' before 
the Commons, April 23, 1644, p. 46, says, " If Christ will set 
np his kingdom upon the carcases of the slain, it well be- 
comes all elders to rejoice and give thanks. Cut them down 
with the sword of justice, root them out, and consume thom 
as with fire, that no root may spring up again." 

Of this spirit was Mr. George Swathe, minister of Denham, 
in Suffolk, who, in a prayer, July 13, 1641, or 1642, has the 
following remarkable words: "Lord, if no composition will 
end the controversy between the King and the ParUament, 
but the King and his party will have blood, let them drink of 
their own cup; let then* blood be spilled like water; let their 
blood be sacrificed to thee, God, for the sins of our na- 
tion." 



20 HUDIBRAS. 

Thiogs that the legend never heard of, 
But made the Wicked sore afeard of. 

The quacks of government (who sate 
At th' unregarded helm of State, 
And understood this wild confusion su 

Of fatal madness and delusion 
Must, sooner than a prodigy, 
Portend destruction to be nigh) 
Consider'd timely how t' withdraw. 
And save their wind-pipes from the law ; U9 

For one encounter at the bar 
Was worse than all they 'ad 'scap'd in war ; 
And therefore met in consultation 
To cant and quack upon the nation ; 
Not for the sickly patient's sake, us 

Nor what to give, but what to take ; 
To feel the pulses of their fees. 
More wise than fumbling arteries ; 
Prolong the snuff of life in pain, 
And from the grave recover — gain. 3m 

'Mong these there was a politician 
With more heads than a beast in vision, 
And more intrigues in ev'ry one 
Than all the Whores of Babylon : 
So politic as if one eye ssi 

TTpon the other were a spy, 
That, to trepan the one to think 

V. 351. I'his was Sir Anthony Ashley Cooper, who ccMii 
plied with dvery change in those times. 



PART III. CANTO II. 21 

Tlie other blind, both strove to blhik ; 

And in his dark pragmatic way 

As busy as a child at play. S60 

H' had seen tlu*ee governments run down, 

And had a hand in ev'ry one : 

Was for 'em and against 'em all, t 

But barb'rous when they came to fall : 

For, by trepanning th' old to ruin, §<}» 

He made his int'rest with the new one ; 

Play'd true and faithful, though against 

His conscience, and was still advanc'd : 

For by the witchcraft of rebellion 

Transform'd t* a feeble State-camelion, tro 

By giving aim from side to side, 

He never fail'd to save his tide, 

But got the start of ev'ry state, 

And at a change ne'er came too late ; 

Could turn his word, and oath, and faith, tn 

As many ways as in a lath ; 

By turning wriggle, hke a screw, 

Int' highest trust, and out for new : 

For when h' had happily incurred, 

Instead of hemp, to be preferr'd, sic 

And pass'd upon a government, 

He play'd his trick, and out he went: 

But being out, and out of hopes 

To mount his ladder (more) of ropes, 

Would strive to raise himself upon S8« 

The public ruin and his own ; 

So little did he understand 



22 IIUDIDKAS. 

The desp'rate feats lie took in hand ; 

For when h' had got himself a name 

For frauds and tricks, he spoil'd his game, 390 

Had forc'd his neck into a noose, 

To shew his play at fast and loose ; 

And, when he chanc'd t* escape, mistook 

For art and subtlety his luck. 

So right his judgment was cut fit, 39s 

And made a tally to his wit, 

And both together most profound 

At deeds of darkness under ground ; 

As th' earth is easiest undermin'd 

By vermin impotent and blind. 400 

By all these arts, and many more 
H' had practis'd long and much before, 
Our state-artificer foresaw 
Which way the world began to draw : 
For as old sinners have all points 40a 

O' th' compass in their bones and joints. 
Can by their pangs and aches find 
All turns and changes of the wind. 
And, better than by Napier's bones, 
Feel in their own the age of moons ; 41c 

So guilty sinners in a state 
Can by their times prognosticate. 
And in their consciences feel pain 
Some days before a show'r of rain : 
He therefore wisely cast about 4* 

All ways he could t' insure his throat. 
And hither came t' observe and smoke 



PART III. CANTO II. 23 

What courses other riskers took, 

And to the utmost do his best 

To save himself and hang the rest. 4*20 

To match this Saint there was another. 
As busy and perverse a Brother, 

V. 420. Sir A. Ashley Cooper was of the miller's mind, 
who was concerned in the Cornish rebellion, in the year 1558. 
Ue, apprehending that Sir Wilham Kingston, Provost-mar 
shal, and a rigorous man upon that occasion, would order him 
to be hanged upon the next tree, before he went off told his 
servant that he expected some gentlemen would come a fish- 
ing to the mill, and if they enquhed for the miller, he ordered 
him to say that he was the miller. Sir William came, ac 
cording to expectation, and enquiring for the miller, the poor 
harmless servant said he was the miller: upon which the Pro- 
vost ordered his servants to seize him, and hang liim upon the 
next tree ; which terrified the poor fellow, and made him cry 
out, I am not the miller, but the miller's man. The Provost 
told him, that he would take him at liis word: " If," says he, 
" thou art the miller, thou art a busy knave and rebel ; and 
if thou art the miller's man, thou art a false lying knave, and 
canst not do thy master more service than to hang for him : " 
and, without more ceremony, he was executed. 

V. 421. This character exactly suits John Lilbum, and no 
other, especially the 437, 438, 439, and 440th lines : for it was 
said of him, when living, by Judge Jenkins, " That if the 
world was emptied of all but himself, Lilbum would quarrel 
with John, and John with Lilbum:" which part of his clia- 
•acter gave occasion for the following hnes at his death • 

Is John departed, and is Lilbum gone? 
Farewell to both, to Lilbum and to John. 
Yet, being dead, take this advice from me. 
Let them not both in one grave buried be: 
Lay John here, and Lilbura thereabout, 
For if they both should meet they would fall out. 



JJi nUDIlillAS. 

An haberdasher of small wares 

In politics and state affairs ; 

More Jew than Rabbi Achitophel, 42a 

And better gifted to rebel ; 

For when h' had taught his tribe Vj spouse 

The Cause aloft upon one house, 

He scorn'd to set his own in order, 

But try'd another, and went further ; nin 

So sullenly addicted still 

To 's only principle, his will. 

That whatsoe'er it chanc'd to prove, 

Nor force of argument could move. 

Nor law, nor cavalcade of Ho'burn, 49a 

Could render half a grain less stubborn ; 

For he at any time would hang 

For th' opportunity t' hamngue ; 

And rather on a gibbet dangle 

Tlian miss his dear delight to wrangle ; <io 

In which his parts were so accomplisht, 

That, right or wrong, he ne'er was nonplust ; 

But still his tongue ran on, the less 

Of weight it bore, with greater ease, 

And with its everlasting clack m» 

Set all men's ears upon the rack. 

No sooner could a hint appear, 

But up he started to pickeer, 

And made the stoutest yield to mercy, 

When he enj^ag d in controversy ; «• 

Not by the force of carnal reason. 

But indefatigable teasing ; 



PART HI. CANTO II. 



25 



With vollies of eternal babble, 

And clamour more unanswerable. 

For though his topics, frail and weak, 45* 

Could ne'er amount above a freak, 

He still maintam'd them, like his faults, 

Against the desp'ratest assaults, 

And back'd their feeble want of sense 

With greater heat and confidence ; 460 

As bones of Hectors, when they differ, 

The more they 're cudgel'd grow the stifle r, 

Yet when his profit moderated, 

The fury of his heat abated ; 

For nothing but his interest ws 

Could lay his devil of contest : 

It was his choice, or chance, or curse, 

T' espouse the Cause for better or worse, 

And with his worldly goods and wit. 

And soul and body, worshipp'd it : 470 

But when he found the sullen trapes 

Possess'd with th' devil, worms, and claps, 

The Trojan mare, in foal with Greeks, 

Not half so full of jadish tricks, 

Though squeamish in her outward woman, 418 

As loose and rampant as Dol Common, 

He still resolv'd, to mend the matter, 

V adhere and cleave the obstinater ; 

And still, the skittisher and looser 

Her freaks appear'd, to sit the closer:, 4B0 

For fools are stubborn in their way. 

As corns are harden'd by th' allay ; 



26 nUDIBRAS. 

And obstinacy 's ne'er so stiff 

As when 'tis in a wrong belief. 

These two, with others, being met, 48a 

And close in consultation set. 

After a discontented pause, 

And not without sufficient cause, 

The orator we nam'd of late, 

Less troubled with the pangs of state 490 

Than with his own impatience 

To give himself first audience. 

After he had a while look'd wise. 

At last broke silence and the ice. 

Quoth he. There 's nothing makes me doubt 49« 
Our last Outgoings brought about 
More than to see the characters 
Of real jealousies and fears, 
Not feign'd, as once, but sadly horrid, 
Scor'd upon ev'ry Member's forehead ; 500 

Who, 'cause the clouds are drawn together. 
And threaten sudden change of weather, 
Feel pangs and aches of state-turns, 
And revolutions in their corns ; 
And, since our Workings-out are crost, 50« 

Throw up the Cause before 'tis lost. 
Was it to run away we meant 
When, taking of the Covenant, 
The lamest cripples of the Brothers 

»r. 485 486. This cabal was held at WhitehaU, at the 
▼ery time that General Monk was dining with the city d 
London. 



PART ITT. CANTO II. 27 

Took oaths to run before all others, fiio 

But, in their own sense, only swore 

To strive to run away before, 

And now would prove that words and oath 

Engage us to renounce them both ? 

'Tis true the Cause is in the lurch 5i4 

Between a right and mongrel church, 

The Presbyter and Independent, 

That stickle which shall make an end on't, 

As 'twas made out to us the last 

Expedient — (I mean Marg'ret's fast) — sao 

When Providence had been suborn'd 

What answer was to be return'd : 

Else why should tumults fright us now 

We have so many times gone through, 

And understand as well to tame 52a 

As, when they serve our turns, t' inflame ? 

Have prov'd how inconsiderable 

Are all engagements of the rabble, 

Whose frenzies must be reconcil'd 

With drums and rattles, hke a child, 630 

But never prov'd so prosperous 

As when they were led on by us ; 

For all our scouring of religion 

Began with tumults and sedition ; 

When hurricanes of fierce commotion 835 

V. 521. Alluding to the impudence of those pretended 
Saints, who frequently directed God Almighty wliat answers 
oe should return to their prayers. ^Mr. Simeon Ash was 
called ' the God-challenger.' 



^^ llUDTFmA.S. 

Became strong motives to devotion 

(As carnal seamen, in a storm, 

Turn pious converts and reform) ; 

\VTien rusty weapons, with chalk'd edges, 

Maintain'd our feeble privileges, 64 d 

And brown-bills, levy'd in the City, 

Made bills to pass the Grand Committee : 

When Zeal, with aged clubs and gleaves, 

Gave chace to rochets and white sleeves. 

And made the Church, and State, and Laws, ms 

Submit t' old iron and the Cause. 

And as we thi'iv'd by tumults then, 

So might we better now agen. 

If we knew how, as then we did, 

To use them rightly in our need : 550 

Tumults by which the mutinous 

I^etray themselves instead of us ; 

The hollow-hearted, disaffected, 

And close malignant, are detected ; 

Wlio lay their lives and fortunes down mb 

For pledges to secure our own ; 

And freely sacrifice their ears 

T' appease our jealousies and fears : 

And yet for all these providences 

W are offer'd, if we had our senses, t>w 

We idly sit, like stupid blockheads, 

Our hands committed to our pockets, 

And nothing but our tongues at large 

To get the wretches a discharge : 

Like men condemn'd to thunderbolts, Mf 



rAIlT I//. CANTO IT. 29 

\yiia, ere the blow, become mere dolts 

Or fools besotted with their crimes, 

That know not how to shift betimes, 

That neither have the hearts to stay, 

Nor wit enough to run away ; 570 

Who, if we could resolve on either, 

Might stand or fall at least together ; 

No mean nor trivial solaces 

• 

To partners in extreme distress, 

Who use to lessen their despairs 67» 

By parting them int' equal shares ; 

As if the more they were to bear 

They felt the weight the easier. 

And ev'ry one the gentler hung 

The more he took his turn among. 68O 

But 'tis not come to that as yet, 

Tf we had courage left, or wit. 

Who, when our fate can be no worse. 

Are fitted for the bravest course. 

Have time to rally, and prepare 6M 

Our last and best defence, despair : 

Despair, by which the gallant'st feats 

Have been achiev'd in greatest straits, 

And horrid'st dangers safely wav'd, 

By being courageously outbrav'd ; 69o 

A^s wounds by wider wounds are heal'd, 

And poisons by themselves expell'd : 

And so they might be noAV agen. 

If we were, what we should be, men ; 

And not so dully desperate, 69s 



so HUDIBRAS. 

To side against ourselves with Fate : 

As criminals condemn'd to suffer 

Ai'e blinded first, and tlien turn'd over- 

This comes of Breaking Covenants, 

And setting up exauns of Saints, eoi 

That fine, like aldermen, for grace, 

To be excus'd the efficace : 

For sp'ritual men are too transcendent, 

That mount their banks for independent, 

To hang, like Mah'met, in the air, eos 

Or St. Ignatius at his prayer, 

By pure geometry, and hate 

Dependence upon church or state : 

Disdain the pedantry o' th' letter, 

And since obedience is better eio 

(The Scripture says) thari sacrifice, 

Presume the less on 't will suffice ; 

And scorn to have the moderat'st stints 

Prescribed their peremptory hints, 

Or any opinion, true or false, eia 

Declar'd as such, in Doctrinals ; 

But left at large to make their best on, 

Without b'ing call'd t' account or question ; 

Interpret all the spleen reveals. 

As Whittington explain'd the bells : 630 

And bid themselves turn back agen 

Tjord May'rs of New Jerusalem ; 



V. 600. Exauns should be written ' exemts,' or ' exempts 
which is a French word, pronounced ' exauns.' 



TAUT in. CANTO II. 31 

Hut look so big and overgrown, 

They scorn their edifiers to own, 

Who taught them all their sprinkling lessons, 625 

Their tones, and sanctified expressions ; 

Bestow'd their Gifts upon a Saint, 

Like charity on those that want ; 

And learn'd th' apocryphal bigots 

T' inspire themselves with short-hand notes, eio 

For which they scorn and hate them worse 

Than dogs and cats do sow-gelders : 

For who first bred them up to pray, 

And teach the House of Commons' way ? 

Where had they all their gifted phrases, eas 

But from our Calamies and Cases ? 

Without whose sprinkling and sowing. 

Who e*er had heard of Nye or Owen? 

Their Dispensations had been stifled. 

But for our Adoniram Byfield ; <40 

And had they not begun the war, 

Th' had ne'er been sainted as they are : 

For Saints in peace degenerate, 

And dwindle down to reprobate ; 

V. 636, Calamy and Case were chief men among the 
Presbyterians, as Owen and Nye were amongst the Inde- 
pendents. 

V. 640. ' Adoniram Byfield.' He was a bi'OKen apothecary^ 
R zealous Covenanter, one of the scribes to the Assembly of 
Divines: and, no doubt, for his great zeal and pains-taking in 
his office, he had the pi'ofit of printing the ' Directory,' the 
copy whereof was sold for £ 400, though, when printed, the 
price was but three-pence. 



32 HUDIBKAS. 

Their zeal corrupts, like standing water, 54« 

In th' intervals of war and slaughter ; 

Abates the sharpness of its edge. 

Without the pow'r of sacrilege : 

And though they Ve tricks to cast their sins, 

As easy as serpents do their skins, ttc;a 

That in a while grow out agen, 

In peace they turn mere cs^rnal men, 

And from the most refin'd of Saints 

As nat'rally grow miscreants 

As barnacles turn Soland geese 6t*6 

In th' islands of the Orcades. 

Their Dispensation's but a ticket 

For their conforming to the Wicked, 

With whom the greatest difference 

Lies more in w^ords and show, than sense : «» 

For as the Pope, that keeps the gate 

Of heaven, wears three crowns of state ; 

So he that keeps the gate of hell, 

Pfoud Cerb'rus, wears three heads as well ; 

And, if the world has any troth, 6«; 

Some have been canoniz'd in both. 

But that wdiich does them greatest harm, 

Their sp'ritual gizzards are too warm, 

Wliich puts the overheated sots 

Th fever still, like other goats ; 67o 

V. 648. It is an observation made by many •venters upon 
ie Assembly of Divines, that in their annotations upon the 
dible they cautiously avoid speaking upon the subject ol 
sacrilege. 



TART HI. CANTO 1 1. 33 

For though the Whore bends heretics 

With flames of fire, like crooked sticks. 

Our Schismatics so vastly differ, 

The hotter they 're they grow the stiffer ; 

Still setting off their sp'ritual goods 67a 

With fierce and pertinacious feuds : 

For Zeal 's a dreadful termagant, 

That teaches Saints to tear and rant, 

And Independents to profess 

The doctrine of Dependences ; (wo 

Turns meek, and secret, sneaking ones, 

To Raw-heads fierce and Bloody-bones; 

And, not content with endless quaiTels 

Against the wicked and their morals, 

The Gibellines, for want of Guelfs, 6m 

Divert their rage upon themselves. 

For now the war is not between 

The Brethren and the Men of Sin, 

But Saint and Saint to spill the blood 

Of one another's Brotherhood, 690 

Where neither side can lay pretence 

To liberty of conscience, 

Or zealous suff'ring for the Cause 

To gain one groat's worth of applause ; 

For, though endur'd with resolution, 6W 

Twill ne'er amount to persecution. 

Shall precious Saints, and Secret ones, 

Break one another's outward bones. 

And eat the flesh of Bretheren, 

Instead of kings and mighty men ? 700 

VOL. II. y 



34 II U DIP. HAS. 

When fiends agree among themselves, 

Shall they be found the greater elves ? 

When Bel 's at union with the Dragon, 

And Baal-Peor friends with Dagon ; 

When savage bears agree with bears, 706 

Shall secret ones lug Saints by th' ears, 

And not atone their fatal wrath, 

AVhen common danger threatens both ? 

Shall mastijQTs, by the collars puU'd, 

Engag'd with bulls, let go their hold, no 

And Saints, whose necks are pawn'd at stake, 

No notice of the danger take ? 

But though no pow'r of heav'n or hell 

Can pacify fanatic zeal, 

Who would not guess there n\ight be hopes 7i» 

The fear of gallowses and ropes, 

Before their eyes, might reconcile 

Their animosities a while. 

At least until they 'ad a clear stage, 

And equal freedom to engage, tm 

Without the danger of surprise 

By both our conmion enemies ? 

This none but we alone could doubt 
WTio understand their workings-out, 
And know 'em, both in soul and conscience, "is 
Giv'n up t' as reprobate a nonsense 
As sp'ritual outlaws, whom the pow'r 
Of miracle can ne'er restore. 
Ws whom at first they set up under 
Xn revelation only of plunder, /ap 



TART III. CANTO fl. 85 

Wlio since have had so many trials 

Of tlieir incroaching self-denials, 

That rook'd upon us with design 

To out-reform and undermine ; 

Took all our interests and commands, 736 

Perfidiously, out of our hands ; 

Involv'd us in the guilt of blood, 

Without the motive-gains allowed. 

And made us serve as ministerial, 

Like younger sons of Father Belial : 740 

And yet, for all th' inhuman wrong 

Th' had done us and the Cause so long, 

We never fail'd to carry on 

The Work still, as we had begun ; 

But true and faithfully obey'd, 74* 

And neither preach'd them hurt, nor pray'd ; 

Nor troubled them to crop our ears, 

Nor hang us like the Cavaliers ; 

Nor put them to the charge of jails, 

To find us pill'ries and carts'-tails, 7W 

Or hangman's wages, which the state 

Was forc'd (before them) to be at ; 

That cut, like talHes, to the stumps 

Our Bars, for keeping true accompts. 

And burnt our vessels, Hke a new t6s 

Seal'd peck or bushel, for b'ing true ; 

But hand in hand, like faithful Brothers, 

Held for the Cause against all others, 

Disdaining equally to yield 

One syllable of wluit we held. 76o 



36 IIUDIBKAS. 

And though we differ'd now and then 

'Bout outward things, and outward men, 

Our inward men, and constant frame 

Of spirit, still were near the same ; 

And, till they first began to cant, 763 

And sprinkle down the Covenant, 

We ne'er had call in any place, 

Nor dream'd of teaching down Free Grace ; 

But join'd our Gifts perpetually 

Against the common enemy, 770 

Although 'twas our, and their opinion, 

Each other's church was but a Rimmon : 

And yet for all this Gospel-union, 

And outward show of Church-communion, 

They 'd ne'er admit us to our shares 775 

Of ruling church or state affairs. 

Nor give us leave t' absolve or sentence 

T' our own conditions of repentance, 

But shar'd our dividend o' th' Crown 

We had so painfully preach'd down, 7ao 

And forc'd us, though against the grain, 

T' have calls to teach it up again ; 

For 'twas but justice to restore 

The wrongs we had receiv'd before ; 

And, when 'twas held forth in our way, 785 

W had been ungrateful not to pay ; 

Who, for the right we 've done the nation, 

Have earn'd our temporal salvation ; 

^nd put our vessels in a way 

Once more to come again in play : 79C 



TART Ur. CANTO U. 37 

For if the turning of u.s out 

Has brought this providence about, 

And that our only suffering 

Is able to bring in the King, 

What would our actions not have done, tot 

Had we been suffer'd to go on ? 

And therefore may pretend t' a share, 

At least, in carrying on th' affair : 

But whether that be so or not, 

W have done enough to have it thought, 930 

And that 's as good as if w' had done % 

And easier pass'd upon account : 

For if it be but half deny'd, 

'Tis half as good as justify 'd. 

The world is nat'rally averse tOft 

To all the truth it sees or hears, 

But swallows nonsense, and a lie. 

With greediness and gluttony ; 

And though it have the pique, and long, 

'Tis still for something in the wrong ; (>io 

As women long, when they 're with child, 

For things extravagant and wild ; 

For meats ridiculous and fulsome. 

But seldom any thing that 's wholesome ; 

Ajid, hke the world, men's jobbernoles 9i6 

Turn round upon their ears, the poles. 

And what they 're confidently told. 

By no sense else can be control'd. 

And this, perhaps, may prove the means 
Once more to hedge in Providence. 830 



^^ tILDlBKAS. 

For as relapses make diseases 

More desp'rate than their first accesses, 

If we but get again in pow'r, 

Our work is easier than before, 

And we more ready and expert 8M 

r th' mystery, to do our part ; 

We, who did rather undertake 

The first war to create, than make ; 

And, when of notliing 'twas begun, 

Hais'd funds, as strange, to carry 't on ; S9^ 

Trepann'd the state, and fac'd it down, 

With plots and projects of our own ; 

And if we did such feats at first. 

What can we, now w' are better verst ? 

Who have a freer latitude, 83fi 

Than sinners give themselves, allow'd ; 

And therefore likeliest to brino: in, 

On fairest terms, our Discipline ; 

To which it was reveal'd long since 

We were ordain'd by Providence, 840 

When three Saints' ears, our predecessors, 

The Cause's primitive confessors, 

B'ing crucify'd, the nation stood 

In just so many years of blood. 

That, multipHed by Six, exprest 845 

The perfect number of the Beast, 

And prov'd that we must be the men, 

V. 841. Burton, Piyn, and Bastwick, three notorious ring 
headers of the factions, just at the begmnlng of the late liorrid 
Eebellion. 



PART ITT, CANTO U. 39 

To bring this Work about agen ; 

And those who laid the first foundation, 

Complete the thorough Reformation : sso 

For who have gifts to carry on 

So great a work, but we alone ? 

What Churches have such able pastors, 

And precious, powerful, preaching Masters ? 

Possess'd with absolute dominions, 955 

O'er Brethren's purses and opinions ? 

And trusted with the double keys 

Of heaven, and their warehouses ; 

Who, when the Cause is in distress. 

Can furnish out what sums they please, mo 

That brooding lie in bankers' hands, 

To be dispos'd at their commands ; 

And daily increase and multiply, 

With Doctrine, Use, and Usury : 

Can fetch in parties (as, in war, 866 

All other heads of cattle are) 

From th' enemy of all religions. 

As well as high and low conditions, 

And share them, from blue ribands, down 

To all blue aprons in the Town : 870 

From ladies hurried in caleshes, 

With cornets at their footmen's breeches, 

To bawds as fat as Mother Nab, 

All guts and belly, like a crab. 

Our party 's great, and better ty'd 67) 

With oaths and trade, than any side ; 

Has one considerable improvement 



40 HUDIBRA5. 

To double fortify the Covenant ; 

I mean our Covenants to purchase 

Delinquents' titles, and the Church's, uc 

That pass in sale, from hand to hand, 

/Vmong ourselves, for current land, 

Ajid rise or fall, like Indian actions, 

A-Ccording to the rate of factions ; 

Our best reserve for Reformation, 885 

When new Outgoings give occasion ; 

That keeps the loins of Brethren girt, 

The Covenant (their creed) t' assert ; 

A^nd, when they 've pack'd a Parl'ament, 

Will once more try th' expedient : eoo 

Who can already muster friends 

To serve for members to our ends ; 

That represent no part o' th' nation, 

But Fisher's-folly congregation ; 

Are only tools to our intrigues, sm 

And sit like geese to hatch our eggs ; 

Who, by their precedents of wit, 

T' outfast, outloiter, and outsit, 

Can order matters underhand. 

To put aU bus'ness to a stand ; 900 

Lay public bills aside for private. 

And make 'em one another drive out ; 

Divert the great and necessary. 

With trifles to contest and vary: 

And make the nation represent, 901 

And serve for us in Parl'ament ; 

Cut out more work than can be done 



rAKT III. CANTO II. 41 

Ic Plato's year, but finish none, 

Unless it be the bulls of Lenthal, 

That always pass'd for fundamental ; ' pio 

Can set up grandee against grandee, 

To squander time away, and bandy ; 

Make Lords and Commoners lay sieges 

To one another's privileges ; 

And, rather than compound the quarrel, 91 f 

Engage, to th' inevitable peril 

Of both their ruins, th' only scope 

And consolation of our hope ; 

Who, though we do not play the game, 

Assist as much by giving aim ; 9so 

Can introduce our ancient arts. 

For heads of factions, t' act their parts ; 

Know what a leading voice is worth, 

A seconding, a third, or fourth : 

How much a casting voice comes to, pas 

That turns up trump of ' Aye ' or ' No ; * 

And, by adjusting all at th' end. 

Share ev'ry one his dividend. 

An art that so much study cost, 

V. 909. "Mr. Lenthal was Speaker to that House of Com- 
mons which began the Kebellion, murdered the King, becom- 
ing then but the Rump, or fag-end of a House, was turned 
out by Oliver Cromwell; restored after Richard was outed, 
and at last dissolved themselves at General Monk's command : 
and as his name was set to the ordinances of this House, these 
ordinances are here called the ' BuUs of Lenthal,' in allusion 
io the Pope's bulls, which are humorouslj'^ described by the 
author of ' A Tale of a Tub.' 



42 ITCDIERAS. 

And now 's in danger to be lost, 930 

Unless our ancient virtuosis, 

That found it out, get into th' Houses. 

These are the courses that we took 

To carry things by hook or crook, 

And practis'd down from forty-four, an 

Until they turn'd us out of door, 

Besides, the herds of Boutefeus 

We set on work without the House, 

When ev'ry knight and citizen 

Kept legislative journeymen, 940 

To bring them in intelligence 

From all points of the rabble's sense, 

And fill the lobbies of both Houses 

With politic important buzzes ; 

Set up committees of cabals, 84a 

To pack designs without the walls ; 

Examine, and draw up all news. 

And fit it to our present use: 

Agree upon the plot o' th' farce, 

And every one his part rehearse ; 950 

Make Q's of answers, to waylay 

What th' other party 's hke to say ; 

What repartees and smart reflections. 

Shall be return'd to all objections ; 

V. 934. Judge Crook aud Hiitton were the two judges who 

dissented from their ten brethren in the case of ship-money 

«rhen it was argued in the Exchequer; which occasioned the 

wags to Ray, that the King carried it by ' Hook,' but not by 

Crook.' 



TAUT III. CANTO II. 43 

And who shall break the master jest, 965 

And what, and how, upon the rest : 

Help pamphlets out, with safe editions, 

Of proper slanders and seditions. 

And treason for a token send. 

By letter, to a country friend ; 96c 

Disperse lampoons, the only wit 

That men, like burglary, commit. 

With falser than a padder's face. 

That all its owner does betrays. 

Who therefore dares not trust it, when 966 

He 's in his calling to be seen ; 

Disperse the dung on barren earth. 

To bring new weeds of discord forth ; 

Be sure to keep up congregations. 

In spite of laws and proclamations : 970 

For charlatans can do no good. 

Until they 're mounted in a crowd ; 

And when they 're punish'd, all the hurt 

Is but to fare the better for 't ; 

As long as confessors are sure 97a 

Of double pay for all th' endure. 

And what they earn in persecution, 

Are paid t' a groat in contribution : 

Whence some tub-holders-forth have made 

In powd'ring tubs their richest trade ; 990 

And, while they kept their shops in prison, 

Have found their prices strangely risen. 

Disdain to own the least regret 

For all the Christian blood w' have let ; 



i4 IIUDIBRAS. 

Twill save our credit, and maintain ass 

Our title to do so again ; 
That needs not cost one dram of sense, 
But pertinacious impudence. 
Our constancy t' our principles, 
In time, will wear out all things else ; 99c 

Like marble statues, rubb'd in pieces 
With gallantry of pilgrims' kisses : 
"While those who turn and wind their oaths, 
Have swell'd and sunk hke other froths ; 
Prevail'd a while, but, 'twas not long 999 

Before from world to world they swung ; 
As they had turn'd from side to side. 
And as the changelings liv'd they dy'd. 
This said, th' impatient states-monger 
Could now contain himself no longer, 1000 

Who had not spar'd to shew his piques 
Against th' haranguer's politics. 
With smart remarks of leering faces, 
And annotations of grimaces. 
After h' had administer'd a dose 100a 

Of snuff mundungus to his nose. 
And powder'd th' inside of his skull, 



V. 995, 996. Dr. South remarks upon the Re^cides, " That 
BO sure did they make of heaven, and so fully reckoned them- 
selves m the high road thither, that they never so much as 
ihought that their Saintships should take Tyburn in thf 
way." 

V. 1004. Var. ' grimashes.' 

V. 1007. Var. * uiside of his soul.' 



PART III. CANTO II. 45 

Instead of th' outward jobbernol, 

He shook it with a scornful look 

On th' adversary, and thus he spoke : loio 

In dressing a calf's head, although 
The tongue and brains together go, 
Both keep so great a distance here, 
'Tis strange if ever they come near ; 
For who did ever play his gambols lou 

"With such insufferable rambles, 
To make the bringing in the Bang 
And keeping of him out one thing? 
Which none could do, but those that swore 
T* as point blank nonsense heretofore ; 1020 

That to defend was to invade, 
And to assassinate to aid : 
Unless, because you drove him out 
(And that was never made a doubt), 
No pow^r is able to restore 1025 

And bring him in, but on your score ; 
A sp'ritual doctrine, that conduces 
Most properly to all your uses. 
'Tis true a scorpion's oil is said 
To cure the wounds the vermin made; loso 

And weapons dress'd with salves restore 
And heal the hurts they gave before : 
But whether Presbyt'jrians have 
So much good nature as the salve. 
Or virtue in them as the vermin, losf 

Those who have try'd them can determine. 
Indeed, 'tis pity you should miss 



4:6 nUDIBRAS. 

Til' arrears of all your services, 

Aiid, for th' eternal obligation 

Y' have laid upon th' ungrateful nation, io4« 

Be us'd so unconscionably hard, 

As not to find a just reward 

For letting rapine loose, and murther, 

To rage just so far, but no further, 

And setting all the land on lire, 1045 

To burn t' a scantling, but no higher ; 

For vent'ring to assassinate 

And cut the throats of Church and State, 

And not be allow'd the fittest men 

To take the charge of both agen: loso 

Especially that have the grace 

Of self-denying gifted face ; 

Who, when your projects have miscarry'd, 

Can lay them, with undaunted forehead. 

On those you painfully trepann'd, i05fi 

And sprinkled in at second hand ; 

As we have been, to share the guilt 

Of Christian blood, devoutly spilt : 

For so our ignorance was flamm'd. 

To damn ourselves, t' avoid being damn'd ; loeo 

Till finding your old foe, the hangman. 

Was like to lurch you at Back-gammon, 

And win your necks upon the set, 

A-s well as ours who did but bet 

(For he had drawn your ears before, loefi 

V. 1065. Alluding to the case of Mr. Piynne, who had bU 
■cars cropped twice for his seditious writings. 



TAltT 111. CA^^TO II. 47 

/ind nick'cl tliem on the self-same score), 

We threw the box and dice away, 

Before y' had lost us at foul play, 

And brought you down to rook and lye, 

And fancy only on the bye ; lOTO 

Redeem'd your forfeit jobbernoles, 

From perching upon lofty poles, 

And rescu'd all your outward traitors 

From hanging up like alligators ; 

For which ingenuously y' have shew'd io75 

Your Presbyterian gratitude ; 

Would freely have paid us home in kind, 

And not have been one rope behind. 

Those were your motives to divide, 

Ajid scruple, on the other side, 108O 

To turn your zealous frauds, and force, 

To fits of conscience and remorse ; 

To be convinc'd they were in vain, 

And face about for new again ; 

For truth no more unveil'd your eyes, loss 

'J'l.an maggots are convinc'd to flies ; 

i\jid therefore all your Lights and Calls 

Are but apocryphal and false, 

To charge us with the consequences 

Of all your native insolences, 1090 

That to your own imperious wills, 

Laid Law and Gospel neck and heels ; 

Corrupted the Old Testament, 

V. 1086. Var. ' Than maggots when they turn to flies.' 
V. 1093. This was done by a fanatical printer, in tlie sev- 



i8 HDDIBRAS. 

To serve the New for precedent ; 

T' amend its errors and defects, J09s 

With murder and rebelUon-texts ; 

Of which there is not any one 

In all the book to sow upon ; 

And therefore (from your tribe) the Jews 

Held Christian doctrine forth, and use ;. not 

As Mahomet (your chief) began 

To mix them in the Alcoran ; 

Denounc'd and pray'd, with fierce devotion. 

And bended elbows on the cushion ; 

Stole from the beggars all your tones, 1 105 

And gifted mortifying groans ; 

Had lights where better eyes were bhnd. 

As pigs are said to see the wind ; 

Fill'd Bedlam with predestination. 

And Knightsbridge with illumination ; 1110 

Made children, with your tones, to run for 't, 

As bad as Bloodybones or Lunsford. 

erith commandment ; who printed it, * Thou shalt commit 
adultery,' and was fined for it in the Star-chamber, or High- 
eommission Court. 

V. 1112. It was one of the artifices of the Male-contents in 
the Civil war to raise false alarms, and to fill the people full 
of frightful apprehensions. In particular they raised a terri 
ble outcry of the imaginary danger they conceived from tha 
Lord Digby and Colonel Lunsford. Lilbum glories, upon his 
trial, for being an incendiary on such occasions, and mentions 
the tumult he raised against the innocent Colonel as a merito- 
rious action: "I was once arraigned (says he) before the 
H rase of Peers, for sticking close to the Uberties and privi- 
leges of this nation, and those that stood for them, being one 



PART ill. CANTO II. 49 

While women, great with child, miscarrj'd, 

For being to Malignants marry'd : 

Transform'd all wives to Dalilahs, iiia 

Whose husbands were not for the Cause ; 

And turn'd the men to ten-horn'd cattle, 

Because they came not out to battle ; 

Made tailors' 'prentices turn heroes, 

For fear of being transform'd to Meroz, ii-io 

And rather forfeit their indentures. 

Than not espouse the Saints' adventures : 

Could transubstantiate, metamorphose, 

And charm whole herds of beasts, like Orpheus ; 

Inchant the King's and Church's lands, iias 

T' obey and follow your commands, 

And settle on a new freehold. 

As Marcly-hill had done of old : 

Could turn the Cov'nant and translate 

The Gospel into spoons and plate ; 1130 

Expound upon all merchants' cashes, 

And open th' intricatest places ; 

Could catechise a money-box. 



of those two or three men that first drew theh* swords in 
Westminster-hall against Colonel Lunsford, and some scores 
of his associates : at that time it was supposed they intended 
to cut the throats of the chiefest men then sitting in the House 
of Peers." And, to render him the more odious, they reported 
that he was of so brutal an appetite, that he would eat chil- 
dren. And, to make thi? gentleman the more detestable, they 
made horrid pictures of him. Colonel Lunsford, after all, was 
fi person of extraordinaiy sobriety, industry, and courage, and 
was killed at the taking of Bristol by the King, in 1643. 
■^oii. ir. 4 



50 IIUDIIJRAS. 

And prove all ponclies orthodox ; 

Until the Cause became a Damon, iiu 

And Pythias the wicked Mammon. 

And yet, in spite of all your charms 
To conjure Legion up in arms, 
And raise more devils in the rout, 
Than e'er y' were able to cast out, luo 

Y' have been reduc'd, and by those fools, 
Bred up (you say) in your own schools. 
Who, though but gifted at your feet, 
Have made it plain they have more wit, 
By whom you 'ave been so oft trepann'd, 1143 
And held forth out of all command ; 
Out-gifted, out-impuls'd, out-done. 
And out-reveal'd at Carryings-on, 
Of all your Dispensations worm'd 
Out-providenc'd and out-reform'd ; iiso 

Ejected out of Church and State, 
And all things but the people's hate ; 
And spirited out of th' enjoyments 
Of precious, edifying employments. 
By those who lodg'd their gifts and gi'aces, ii&s 
Like better bowlers, in your places : 
All which you bore with resolution, 
Charg'd on th' account of persecution ; 
And though most righteously oppress'd, 
Against your wills still acquiesc'd ; iwc 

And never humm'd and hah'd Sedition, 
Nor snuffled Treason, nor Misprision : 
That is, because you never durst ; 



PAIIT ITI. CANTO II. 51 

For, had you preacli'd and pray'd your worst, 

AJas ! you were no longer able iiei 

To raise your posse of the rabble : 

One single red-coat sentinel 

Outcharm'd the magic of the spell, 

And, with his squirt-fire, could disperse 

Whole troops with chapter rais'd and verse, ino 

We knew too well those tricks of yours, 

To leave it ever in your powers, 

Or trust our safeties, or undoings. 

To your disposing of Outgoings, 

Or to your ord'ring Providence, ii7a 

One farthing's-worth of consequence. 

For, had you power to undermine, 
Or wit to carry a design. 
Or correspondence to trepan. 
Inveigle, or betray one man, nao 

There 's nothing else that intervenes, 
And bars your zeal to use the means ; 
And therefore wondrous like, no doubt, 
To bring in kings, or keep them out : 
Brave undertakers to restore, "s^ 

That could not keep yourselves in pow'r ; 
T' advance the int'rests of the Crown, 
That wanted wit to keep your own. 

'Tis true ye have (for I'd be loth 
To wrong you) done your parts in both, uoo 

To keep him out and bring him in, 
As Grace is introdun'd by Sin ; 
Foi '^was your zealous want of sense 



52 HUDIBKAS. 

And sanctify'd impertinence, 

Your carrying business in a huddle, iiou 

That forc'd our rulers to new-model, 

Oblig'd the State to tack about. 

And turn you, root and branch, all out ; 

To reformado, one and all, 

T' your great Croysado General : 1200 

Your greedy slav'ring to devour, 

Before 'twas in your clutches, pow'r ; 

That sprung the game you w^ere to set, 

Before y' had time to draw the net : 

Your spite to see the Church's lands 1205 

Divided into other hands. 

And all your sacrilegious ventures 

Laid out in tickets and debentures ; 

Your envy to be sprinkled down. 

By under churches in the Town ; 1210 

And no course us'd to stop their mouths, 

Nor th' Independents' spreading growths ; 

All which consider'd, 'tis most true 

None bring him in so much as you. 

Who have prevail'd beyond their plots, 1213 

Their midnight juntos, and seal'd knots ; 

That thrive more by your zealous piques. 

Than all their own rash poUtics. 

And this way you may claim a share 

In carrying (as you brag) th' affair ; i22<j 

Else frogs and toads, that croak'd the Jews 

From Pharaoh and his brick-kilns loose. 

And flies and mange, that set them free 



PART III. CANTO II. 53 

From taskmasters and slavery, 

Were likelier to do the feat, laas 

In any indifF'rent man's conceit. 

For who e'er heard of Restoration, 

Until your thorough Reformation ? 

That is, the King's and Church's lands 

Were sequester'd int' other hands : 1231 

For only then, and not before. 

Your eyes were open'd to restore ; 

And when the work was carrying on, 

Who cross 'd it but yourselves alone? 

As by a world of hints appears, 1235 

All plain and extant, as your ears. 

But first, o' th' first : The Isle of Wight 
Will rise up, if you should deny 't, 
Where Henderson and th' other Masses 

"V. 1239. When the King, in the year 1646, was in the 

Scotch anny, the English Parliament sent him some proposi- 
tions, one of which was the abolition of Episcopacy, and tlie 
setting up Presbytery in its stead. Mr. Henderson, one of the 
chief of the Scotch Presbyterian ministers, was employed to 
induce the King to agree to this proposition, it being what his 
Majesty chiefly stuck at. Accorduigly he came provided 
with books and papers for his purpose : the controversy was 
debated in writing, as well as by personal conference, and 
several papers passed between them, which have been several 
times published ; from which it appears that the King, with- 
out books or papers, or any one to assist him, was an over- 
match for this old champion of the Kirk (and, I think, it will 
be no hyperbole if I add, for all the then English and Scotch 
Presbyterian teachers put together), and made him so far a 
convert, that he departed with great sorrow to Edinburgh, 
with a deep sense of the mischief of which he ha i. been the 



54 HUD TBI? AS. 

Were sent to cap texts, and put cases : 1240 

To pass for deep and learned scholars, 
Although but paltry Ob and SoUers : 

author and abettor; and not only lamented to his friends and 
confidents, on his death-bed, ■vvliich followed soon after, but 
likewise published a solemn declaration to the Parliament and 
Synod of England, in which he owned, " That they had been 
abused with most false aspersions against his Majesty, and 
that they ought to restore him to his fuU rights, royal throne, 
and dignity, lest an endless character of ingratitude lie upon 
therii, that may turn to their ruin." As to the King himself, 
besides mentioning his justice, his magnanimity, his sobriety, 
his charity, and other virtues, he has these words : " I do de- 
clare, before God and the world, whether in relation to the 
Kirk or State, I found his Majesty the most intelligent man 
that I ever spake with, as far beyond my expression as ex- 
pectation. I profess I was oftentimes astonished with the 
quickness of his reasons and rephes; wondered how he, 
Bpendhig his time in sports and recreations, could have at- 
tained to so great knowledge; and must confess that I was 
convinced in conscience, and knew not how to give him any 
reasonable satisfaction: yet the sweetness of his disposition is 
Buch, that whatever I said was well taken. I must say that I 
never met with any disputant of that mild and calm temper, 
which convinced me that his wisdom and moderation could 
not be without an extraordinary measure of divine grace. I 
dare say, if his advice had been followed, all the blood that is 
shed, and all the rapine that has been committed, would have 
been prevented." 

V. 1242. Whoever considers the context will find, that Ob 
and SoUers are designed as a character of ilr. Henderson and 
his fellow-disputants, who are called Masses (as Mas is aii 
abridgment of Master), that is, young masters in divinity; 
and this character signifies something quite contrary'- to deep 
and learned scholars, particularly such as had studied contro 
rersies, as they are handled by little books or systems (of the 
Dutch and Geneva cut), where the authors represent theii 



I'AllT III. CANTO II. 55 

A.S if til' unseasonable fools 

Had been a-coursing in the schools, 

Until th' had prov'd the devil author 1246 

O' th' Cov'nant, and the Cause his daughter : 

For when they charg'd him with the guilt 

Of all the blood that had been spilt, 

They did not mean he wrought th' effusion 

In person, like Su- Pride, or Hughson, 1230 

But only those who first begun 

The quarrel were by him set on ; 

And who could those be but the Saints, 

Those Reformation-termagants ? 

But ere this pass'd, the wise debate 1253 

Spent so much time, it grew too late ; 

For Oliver had gotten ground, 

adversaries' arguments by small objections, and subjoin their 
own pitiful solutions. In the margin of these books may be 
seen Ob and Sol. Such mushroom divines are ingeniously 
and compendiously called Ob and SoUei-s. 

V. 1250. Pride was a foundling. He went hito the army, 
was made a colonel, and was principally concerned in seclu- 
ding the members in order to the King's trial ; which great 
change was called Colonel Pride's Purge. He was one of 
Oliver Cromwell's upper house. He is called Thomas Lord 
Pride in the commission for erecting a High Coiirt of Justice 
for the trinl of Sir Henry Slhigsby, Dr. He wit, &c. Mr. But-" 
ler calls him Sir Pride, by way uf sneer upon the manner of 
his being knighted ; for Oliver Cromwell knighted him with a 
.^ggot-stick, mstead of a swonL 

Hughson was a cobbler, went into the army, and was made 
a colonel ; knighted by Oliver Cromwell, anil, to help to cob- 
k>le the crazy state of the nation, was made one of OUver's 
upper house. 



56 HUDIBRAS. 

T' inclose him with his warriors round ; 

I lad brought his Providence about, 

And turn'd th' untimely sophists out. isee 

Nor had the Uxbridge business less 
Of nonsense in 't, or sottishness ; 
W'Tien from a scoundrel holder-forth, 
The scum as well as son o' th' earth, 
Your mighty senators took law, i:2Ga 

At his command were forc'd t' withdraw, 
And sacrifice the peace o' th' nation 
To Doctrine, Use, and Application. 
So when the Scots, your constant cronies, 
Th' espousers of your cause and monies, 1270 

V. 1263. This was Mr. Christopher Love, a furious Presby- 
terian, who, when the King's Commissioners met those of the 
Pariiament at Uxbridge, in the year 1644, to treat of peace, 
preached a sermon there, on the 30th of January, against the 
treaty, and said, among other things, that '' no good was to be 
expected from it, for that they (meaning the King's Commis- 
sioners) came from Oxford with hearts full of blood." 

V. 1269, 1270. The expense the English rebels engaged 
the nation in, by bringing in their brother rebels from Scot- 
land, amounted to an extravagant sum, their receipts in 
money and free-quarter being £1,462,769. 5a. dd. William 
Lilly, the Sidrophel of this Poem, observes of the Scots, 
" That thev came into England purposely to steal our goods, 
ravish our wives, enslave our persons, inherit our possessions 
and birthrights, remain here in England, and everlastingly to 
inhabit among us." 

Mr. Bowlstrode, son of Colonel Bowlstrode, a factious rebel 
in Buckinghamsliire, in liis prayer before his sermon, at Hor 
ton, near Colebrook, used the following words: "Thou hf.st, 
Lord, of late written bitter things against thy children, and 
fiorsaken thine own inhcritanco: and now, Lord, in our 



PART III. CANTO II. OJ 

Wlio had so often, in your aid, 

So many ways been soundly paid, 

Came in at last for better ends. 

To prove themselves your trusty friends, 

You basely left them and the Church lai^ 

They tram'd you up to, in the lurch. 

And sufFer'd your own tribe of Christians 

To fall before as true Pliilistines. 

This shews what utensils y' have been 

To bring the King's concernments in ; isso 

Wliich is so far from being true. 

That none but he can bring in you ; 

And if he take you into trust 

Will find you most exactly just, 

Such as will punctually repay lasa 

With double int'rest, and betray. 

Not that I think those pantomimes, 
Who vary action with the times, 
Are less ingenious in their art 
Than those who duly act one part; 1290 

Or those who turn from side to side 
More guilty than the wind and tide. 
\11 countries are a wise man's home, 
And so are governments to some, 

misery and distress, we expected aid from our brethren nf out 
neighbouring nation (the Scots, I mean); but, good Lord, thou 
krowest that they are a false perfidious nation, and do all thev 
do for their own ends." 

By the author of a tract, entitled 'Lex Talionis,' 1647, it it 
oroposed, as a preventing remedy, " let the Scots, in the 
name of God, or of the devil that sent them, go home.*' 



58 HUDIBRAS. 

Who change them for the same intrigues i2M 

That statesmen use in breaking leagues ; 

While others, in old faiths and troths, 

Look odd as out-of-fashion'd clothes, 

And nastier in an old opinion 

Than those who never shift their linen. laoo 

For True and Faithful 's sure to lose 

Which way soever the game goes ; 

And, whether parties lose or win, 

Is always nick'd, or else hedg'd in : 

While power usurp'd, like stol'n delight, isos 

Is more bewitchmg than the right, 

And, when the times begin to alter. 

None rise so high as from the halter. 

And so may we, if w' have but sense 
To use the necessary means, isio 

And not your usual stratagems 
On one another, lights and dreams : 
To stand on terms as positive 
As if we did not take, but give ; 
Set up the Covenant on crutches isiA 

'Gainst those who have us in their clutches, 
And dream of pulling churches down 
Before w' are sure to prop our own ; 
Your constant method of proceeding, 
Without the carnal means of heeding, 1330 

Who, 'twixt your inward sense and outward, 
Are worse than if y' had none accoutred. 

I grant all curses are in vain 
Unless we can get in again. 



PART HI. CANTO M. 59 

The only way that 's left us now ; 132 s 

But all the difficulty 's how. 

'Tis true w' have money, th' only power 

That all mankind falls down before ; 

Money, that, like the swords of kings, 

Is the last reason of all things : isso 

And therefore need not doubt our play 

Has all advantages that way. 

As long as men have faith to sell. 

And meet with those that can pay well ; 

Wliose half-starv'd pride and avarice issa 

One church and state will not suffice 

T' expose to sale, besides the wages 

Of storing plagues to after-ages. 

Nor is our money less our own 

Than 'twas before we laid it down ; 134C 

For 'twill return, and turn t' account, 

If we are brought in play upon 't ^ 

Or but, by casting knaves, get in, 

What pow'r can hinder us to win ? 

We know the arts we us'd before i34« 

In peace and war, and sometliing more, 

And by th' unfortunate events 

Can mend our next experiments ; 

For, when we're taken into trust. 

How easy are the wisest choust, issc 

Who see but th' outsides of our feats. 

And not their secret springs and weights ; 

And, while they 're busy at their ease, 

Can carry what designs we please ? 



60 HUDIBRAS. 

How easy is 't to sei-ve for agents uss 

To prosecute our old engagements ? 

To keep the good old Cause on foot, 

And present power from taking root; 

Inflame them both with false alarms 

Of plots and parties taking arms ; tsso 

To keep the nation's wounds too wide 

From healing up of side to side ; 

Profess the passionat'st concerns 

For both their interests by tui-ns, 

The only way t' improve our own, i86a 

By dealing faithfully with none 

(As bowls run true by being made 

On purpose false, and to be sway'd) ; 

For if we should be true to either, 

'Twould turn us out of both together ; isio 

And therefore have no other means 

To stand upon our own defence, 

.But keeping up our ancient party 

In vigour confident and hearty : 

To reconcile our late Dissenters, 1373 

Our Brethren, though by other venters ; 

Unite them and their different maggots, 

As long and short sticks are in faggots, 

And make them join again as close 

As when they first began t' espouse ; issi 

Erect them into separate 

New Jewish tribes in Church and State ; 

V. 1362. Var. ' For healing up.' 
V. 1368. Var. « Of purpose false.' 



VXTiT III. CAXTO II. 61 

To join in marriage and commerce, 

A.nd only 'mong themselves converse, 

And all that are not of their mind issA 

Make enemies to all mankind ; 

Take all religions in, and stickle 

From Conclave down to Conventicle ; 

Agreeing still, or disagreeing, 

According to the Light in being. 1890 

Som itimes for liberty of conscience, 

And spiritual misrule in one sense ; 

But in another quite contrary. 

As Dispensations chance to vary ; 

And stand for, as the times will bear it, i39S 

All contradictions of the Spirit: 

Protect their emissaries, empower'd 

To preach Sedition and the Word ; 

And, when they 're hamper'd by the laws, 

Release the lab'rers for the Cause, 1400 

And turn the persecution back 

On those that made the first attack, 

To keep them equally in awe 

From breaking or maintaining law : 

And when they have their fits too soon, uoa 

Before the full-tides of the moon. 

Put off their zeal t' a fitter season 

For sowing faction in and treason ; 

And keep them hooded, and their Churches, 

Like hawks, from baiting on their perches ; 1410 

That, when the blessed time shall come 

Of quitting Babylon and Rome, 



$2 IIUDIRRAS. 



Tliey may be ready to restore 

Their own Fifth Monarchy once more. 

Meanwhile be better arm'd to fence uu 

Against revolts of Providence, 
By watching narrowly, and snapping 
All bHnd sides of it, as they happen : 
For if success could make us Saints, 
Our ruin turn'd us miscreants ; 1429 

A scandal that would fall too hard 
Upon a few, and unprepar'd. 

These are the courses we must run, 
Spite of our hearts, or be undone ; 
And not to stand on terms and freaks, i42t 

Before we have secured our necks. 

But do our work as out of sight, 
As stars by day, and suns by night ; 
All licence of the people own. 
In opposition to the Crown ; uso 

And for the Crown as fiercely side. 
The head and body to divide : 

V. 1419, 1420. The author of " The Fourth Part of the 
History of Independency," p. 56, compares the governors of 
those times with the Turks, who ascribe the goodness of their 
cause to the keenness of their sword, denying that any thing 
may properly be called nefas, if it can but win the epithet of 
\irosperum,. Dr. Owen seems to have been in this way of 
thinking. "Where," says he ("Eben Ezer," p. 13, "L'Es- 
trange's Dissenters' Sajdngs," part ii. p. 11), "is the God of 
Marston ^Moor, and the God of Naseby ? is an acceptable ex- 
postulation in a glorious day. ! what a catalogue of mercies . 
has this nation to plead by in a tune of trouble ! The Go(? 
tame from Naseby, and the Holy One from the West. Selah.'' 



PAKT HI. CANTO II. 63 

The end of all we first design'd, 

And all that yet remains behind. 

Be sure to spare no public rapine J434 

On all emergencies that happen ; 

For 'tis as easy to supplant 

Authority as men in want ; 

As some of us in trusts have made 

The one hand with the other trade ; 144a 

Gain'd vastly by their joint endeavour, 

The right a thief, the left receiver ; 

And what the one, by tricks, forestall'd 

The other, by as sly, retail'd. 

For gain has wonderful effects 1445 

T' improve the factory of sects ; 

The rule of faith in all professions. 

And great Diana of th' Ephesians ; 

Whence turning of religion 's made 

The means to turn and wind a trade ; 1450 

And though some change it- for the worse, 

They put themselves into a course. 

And draw in store of customers, 

To thrive the better in commerce : 

For all religions flock together, 1465 

Like tame and wild fowl of a feather ; 

To nab the itches of their sects, 

As jades do one another's necks. 

Hence 'tis hypocrisy as well 

Will serve t' improve a church as zeal ; 1450 

As persecution or promotion 

Do equally advance devotion. 



D4 HUDIBItAS. 

Let business, like ill watches, go 
Sometime too fast, sometime too slow ; 
For tilings in order are put out i46f 

80 easy, ease itself will do 't : 
But when the feat 's designed and meant, 
What miracle can bar th' event ? 
For 'tis more easy to betray 
Than ruin any other way. i4"«fl 

All 230ssible occasions start, 
The weightiest matters to divert ; 
Obstruct, perplex, distract, entangle, 
And lay perpetual trains to wrangle ; 
But in affairs of less import, uTb 

That neither do us good nor hurt, 
And they receive as little by, 
Out-fawn as much, and out-comply ; 
And seem as scrupulously just, 
To bait our hooks for greater trust. i4iS4 

But still be careful to cry down 
All public actions, though our own ; 
The least miscarriage aggravate. 
And charge it all upon the State : 
Express the horrid'st detestation, u^a 

And pity the distracted nation ; 
Tell stories scandalous and false 
r th' proper language of cabals. 
Where all a subtle statesman says 
Js half in words and half in face 149s 

(As Spaniards talk in dialogues 
Of heads and shoulders, nods and shrugs) ; 



PART III. CANTO II. 6c 

Intrust it under solemn vows 

Of Mum, and Silence, and the Rose, 

To be retail'd again in whispers, 1495 

For th' easy credulous to disperse. 

Thus far the Statesman — when a shout, 
Heard at a distance, put him out ; 
And straight another, all aghast, 
Rush'd in with equal fear and haste, isoo 

Who star'd about, as pale as death, 
And, for a while, as out of breath ; 
Till, having gather'd up his wits, 
He thus began his tale by fits : — 

That beastly rabble — that came down 1505 
From all the garrets — in the Town, 
And stalls, and shop-boards — in vast swarms, 
"With new-chalk'd bills, and rusty arms. 
To cry the Cause — up, heretofore, 
And bawl the Bishops — out of door, 1510 

V. 1504. We learn from Lilly, that the messenger who 
uTCUght this terriMiig intelligence to this cabal was Sir Slar- 
tyn Noell. Sir Martyn tells his story naturally, and begins 
like a man in a fright and out of breath, and continues to 
make breaks and stops till he naturally recovers it, and then 
proceeds floridly, and without impediment. This is a beauty 
tti the Poem not to be disregarded; and let the reader make 
an experiment, and shorten liis breath, or, in other words, put 
himself into Sir Alartyn's condition, and then read this rela 
tion, and he will soon be convinced that the breaks are natu- 
:^1 and judicious. 

V. 1505. This is an accurate description of the mob's burn 
ing rumps upon the admission of the secluded members, in 
contempt of the Rump Parliament. 

VOL. II. 5 



66 IIUDIBRAS. 

Are now drawn up — in greater shoals, 

To roast — and broil us on the coals, 

And all the Grandees — of our members 

Are carbonading — on the embers ; 

Knights, citizens, and burgesses — i5i« 

Held forth by rumps — of pigs and geese, 

That serve for characters — and badges 

1^0 represent their personages ; 

Each bonfire is a funeral pile. 

In which they roast, and scorch, and broil, 1523 

And ev'ry representative 

Have vow'd to roast — and broil alive : 

And 'tis a miracle we are not 
Already sacrific'd incarnate ; 
For while we wrangle here and jar 1535 

"We 're griUy'd all at Temple-bar ; 
Some, on the signpost of an alehouse. 
Hang in ef^gj on the gallows, 
Made up of rags, to personate 
Respective officers of state ; 1530 

That henceforth they may stand reputed 
Proscrib'd in law and executed. 
And, while the Work is carrying on, 
Be ready listed under Dun, 

That worthy patriot, once the bellows 153a 

4nd tinder-box of all his fellows ; 
The activ'st member of the five, 

V. I'm. Dun was the public executioner at that time, 
nnd the executioners long after that went by the samp 
name. ■ 



PART III. CANTO II. 67 

A.S v:eW. as the most primitive ; 

Who, for his faithful service then, 

Is chosen for a fifth agen : — 1540 

(For since the State has made a quint 

Of Generals, he's listed in 't :) — 

This worthy, as the world will say, 

Is paid in specie his own way ; 

For, moulded to the life, in clouts 1545 

Th' have pick'd from dunghills hereabouts, 

He 's mounted on a hazel bavin 

A cropp'd malignant baker gave 'em ; 

And to the largest bonfire riding. 

They 've roasted Cook already, and Pride in; 1550 

On whom, in equipage and state, 



V. 1540. Sir Arthur Hazlerig, one of the five members of 
the House of Commons, was impeached 1641-2 ; was Gover- 
nor of Newcastle-upon-Tyne, had the Bishop of Durham'3 
house, park, and manor of Aukland, and £ 6500. in money, 
given him. He died in the Tower of London, January 8, 
1661. 

V. 1541, 1542. Tlie Rump, gi'owing jealous of General 
Monk, ordered that the generalship should be vested in five 
commissioners, Monk, Hazlerig, Walton, Morley, and Alured, 
\aaking three a quorum, but denyuig a motion that Monk 
should be of that quorum ; but, their authority not being then 
much regarded, this order was not obeyed, and Monk con- 
tinued sole general notwithstanding. 

V. 1550. The wicked wretch who acted as sohcitor in the 
Ring's trial, and drew up a charge of high treason a_gainst 
rtim, and had drawn up a formal plea against him, in case he 
had submitted to the jurisdiction of the Court. At his own 
trial he pleaded, that what he did was as a la^vj^er for his fee. 
He deservedly suffered at Tyb? rn as a Regicide. 



68 HUDIBRAS. 

His scarecrow fellow-members wait, 

Aiid march in order, two and tw^o, 

As at thansgivings th' us'd to do. 

Each in a tatter'd talisman, u&i 

Like vermin in effigie slain. 

But (what 's more dreadful than the rest 
Those rumps are but the tail o' th' Beast, 
Set up by Popish engineers. 
As by the crackers plainly' appears ; i5GC 

For none but Jesuits have a mission 
To preach the faith with ammunition. 
And propagate the church with powder ; 
Their founder was a blown-up soldier. 
These spiritual pioneers o' th' Whore's, isss 

That have the charge of all her stores. 
Since first they fail'd in their designs 
To take-in heav'n by springing mines. 
And with unanswerable barrels 
Of gunpowder disjDute their quarrels, 1570 

Now take a course more practicable. 
By laying trains to fire the rabble, 
And blow us up, in th' open streets, 
Disguis'd in rumps, like sambenites. 
More like to ruin and confound 1675 

Than all their doctrines under ground. 

Nor have they chosen rumps amiss 
For symbols of State-mysteries, 
Though some suppose 'twas but to shew 
How much they scorn'd the Saints, the few, josc 
Who, 'cause they 're wasted to the stumps, 



PART III. CANTO II. 69 

Ai'e represented best by rumps : 

But Jesuits have deeper reaches 

In all their politic far-fetches, 

And, from the Coptic priest Kircherus, i5&» 

Found out this mystic way to jeer us : 

For as th' Egyptians us'd by bees 

T' express their antique Ptolomies, 

And by their stings, the swords they wore, 

Held forth authority and pow'r ; 1590 

Because these subtle animals 

Bear all their interests in their tails, 

And when they 're once impair'd in that, 

Are banish'd their well-order'd state. 

They thought all governments were best i69s 

By hieroglyphic rumps exprest. 

For as, in bodies natural, 
The rump 's the fundament of all, 
So, in a commonwealth or realm, 
The government is call'd the Helm, leoo 

With which, like vessels under sail. 
They 're turn'd and winded by the tail: 
The tail, which birds and fishes steer 
Their courses with through sea and air, 
To whom the rudder of the rump is 16O6 

The same thing with the stern and compass. 
This shews how perfectly the rump 
And commonwealth in Nature jump : 



V. 1585. Var, ' Kirk nis,' Athanasius Kircher, a Jesuit, 
oath written largely on the Egj-ptian mystical learning. 



70 HUDIBRAS. 

For as a iiy that goes to bed 

Bests with his tail above his head, i6i« 

So in this mongrel state of ours 

The rabble are the supreme powers, 

That hors'd us on their backs, to show us 

A jadish trick at last, and throw us. 

The learned Rabbins of the Jews leia 

Write there 's a bone, which they call Luez, 
r th' rump of man, of such a virtue 
No force in Nature can do hurt to ; 
Aiid therefore, at the last great day. 
All th' other members shall, they say, lead 

Spring out of this, as from a seed 
^ill sorts of vegetals proceed; 
From whence the learned sons of Ait 
Os sacrum justly style that part. 
Then what can better represent ]635 

Than this rump-bone the Parliament, 
That, after several rude ejections 
And as prodigious resurrections, 
With new reversions of nine lives 
Starts up, and like a cat revives ? leao 

But now, alas ! they 're all expir'd, 
And th' House as well as members fir'd ; 
Consum'd in kennels by the rout, 
With which they other fires put out ; 
Conderan'd t' ungoverning distress, I68I 

And 2)altry private wretchedness ; 
Worse than the devil to privation 
Beyond all hopes of restoration ; 



PART III. CANTO II. 71 

And parted, like the body and soul, 

From all dominion and control. 1640 

We who could lately, with a look, 
Enact, establish, or revoke. 
Whose arbitrary nods gave law, 
And frowns kept multitudes in awe ; 
Before the bluster of whose huff 1645 

All hats, as in a storm, flew off; 
Ador'd and bow'd to by the great, 
Down to the footman and valet ; 
Had more bent knees than chapel-mats, 
Ajid prayers than the crowns of hats ; i6d0 

Shall now be scorn'd as wretchedly, 
For ruin *s just as low as high ; 
Which might be suffer'd, were it all 
The horror that attends our fall : 
For some of us have scores more large i653 

Than heads and quarters can discharge ; 
And others, who, by restless scraping. 
With public frauds, and private rapine. 
Have mighty heaps of wealth amass'd, 
Would gladly lay down all at last; leeo 

And, to be but undone, entail 

V. 1661. This the Regicides in -general would have done 
gladly; but the ringleaders of them were executed 'in ter- 
rorem.' Those that came in upon proclamation were brought 
to the bar of the House of Lords, 25th November, 1661, to an- 
swer what they could say for themselves why judginei^t 
should not be executed against them? They severally al- 
leged, "That, upon his Maj"isty's gracious Declaration from 
Breda, and the votes of t)ie Parliament, &c. they did render 



72 HUDIBRA8. 

Their vessels on perpetual jail, 
And bless the dev'l to let them farms 
Of forfeit soul on no worse terms. 

This said, a near and louder shout leei 

Put all th' Assembly to the rout, 
TVlio now began t' outrun their fear, 
As horses do from those they bear ; 
But crowded on with so much haste. 
Until they 'd block'd the passage fast, leia 

And barricado'd it with haunches 
Of outward men, and bullcs, and paunches, 
That with their shoulders strove to squeeze, 
And rather save a crippled piece 
Of all their crush'd and broken members, i67d 



themselves, being advised that they should thereby secure 
their lives ; and humbly craved the benefit of the proclama- 
tion, &c." And Harry Martyn briskly added, " That he had 
never obeyed any proclamation before this, and hoped be 
should not be hanged for taking the King's word now." A 
bill was brought in for their execution, which was read twice, 
but afterwards dropt, and so they were all sent to their several 
prisons, and little more heard of. Ludlow, and some others, 
escaped by flying among the Swiss Cantons. 

V. 1665, 1666. When Sir Martyn came to this cabal, he 
left the rabble at Temple-bar; but, by the tune he had con- 
cluded his discourse, they were advanced near Whitehall and 
Westminster. This alarmed our caballers, and perhaps terri- 
ded them with the apprehension of being hanged or burned hi 
reaUty, as some of them that veiy mstant were in effigy. No 
wonder, therefore, they broke up so precipitately, and that 
tach endeavoured to secure himself. The manner of it is de- 
scribed with a poetical licence, only to embellish this Cant< 
^th a diverting catastrophe. 



PART jH. canto II. id 

riiaii have them grillied on the embers; 

Still pressing on with heavy packs 

Of one another on their backs, 

The van-ga:ir(l could no longer bear 

The charges of the forlorn rear, lese 

But, borne down headlong by the rout, 

Were trampled sorely under foot ; 

Yet nothing prov'd so formidable 

As th' horrid cookery of the rabble ; 

And fear, that keeps all feeling out, less 

As lesser pains are by the gout, 

Reliev'd them with a fresh supply 

Of rallied force, enough to fly. 

And beat a Tuscan running-horse, 

Whose iockey-rider is all spurs. isga 



ifi HUDIBRJift. 



PART III. CANTO 111. 

THE ARGUMENT. 

Tho Knight and Squire's prodigious flight 
To quit th' enchanted bow'r by night. 
He plots to turn his amorous suit 
T' a plea in law, and prosecute : 
Eepairs to counsel, to advise 
'Bout managing the enterprise ; 
But first resolves to tiy by letter, 
And one more fair address, to get lier. 

Who would believe what strange bugoeajs 

Mankind creates itself of fears, 

That spring, like fern, that insect weed, 

Equivocally, without seed. 

And have no possible foundation 5 

But merely in th' imagination ? 

And yet can do more dreadful feats 

Than hags with all their imps and teats ; 

Make more bewitch and haunt themselves 

Than all their nurseries of elves. 10 

For fear does things so like a witch. 

Our Poet now resumes his principal subject; and the rea- 
son why he is so full in the recapitulation of the last adven- 
ture of our Knight and Squire is, because we had lost sight of 
cur heroes for the space of the longest Canto in tlie whol« 
Poem. 



PART HI. CAXTO III. 75 

'Tis hard t' unriddle which is which ; 

Sets up communities of senses, 

To chop and change intelligences ; 

As E-osjcrucian virtuosoes u 

Can see with ears, and hear with noses ; 

And, when they neither see nor hear, 

Have more than both supply'd by fear, 

That makes them in the dark see visions, 

And hag themselves with apparitions, 3t 

And, when their eyes discover least, 

Discern the subtlest objects best ; 

Do things not contrary alone 

To th' course of Nature, but its own ; 

The courage of the bravest daunt, ss 

And turn poltroons as valiant : 

For men as resolute appear 

With too much as too Uttle fear ; 

And, when they 're out of hopes of flying, 

Will run away from death by dying ; st 

Or turn again to stand it out, 

And those they fled, like lions, rout. 

This Hudibras had prov'd too true, 
Who, by the Furies left perdue. 
And haunted with detachments sent ss 

From Marshal Legion's regiment, 
Was by a fiend, as counterfeit, 
Reliev'd and rescu'd with a cheat, 

V. 36. Alluding to Stephen Marshal's bellowing out trea- 
son from the pulpit, in order to recnnt the army of the Re- 
bels. He was called the ' Geneva Bull.' 



/ b HUDIBRAS. 

"When notlaing but himself and fear 

^Ye^e both the imps and conjurer ; 40 

As, by the rules o' th' virtuosi, 

It follows in due form of poesie. 

Disguis'd in all the masks of night, 
We left our champion on his flight, 
At blindman's buff to grope his way, 41 

In equal fear of night and day ; 
Who took his dark and desp'rate course, 
He knew no better than his horse ; 
And, by an unknown devil led 
(He knew as little whither), fled: so 

He never was in greater need 
Nor less capacity of speed ; 
Disabled, both in man and beast, 
To fly and run away his best, 
To keep the enemy and fear gs 

From equal falling on his rear. 
And though with kicks and bangs he ply*d 
The further and the nearer side 
(As seamen ride with all their force. 
And tug as if they row'd the horse, eo 

And, when the hackney sails most swift. 
Believe they lag, or run adrift) ; 
So, though he posted e'er so fast. 
His fear was greater than his haste : 
For fear, though fleeter than the wind, 6fl 

Believes 'tis always left behind. 
But when the morn began t' appear. 
And shift t' another scene his fear, 



PART III. CANTO III. 77 

He found his new officious shade. 



^) 



That came so timely to his aid, to 

And forc'd him from the foe t' escape, 
Had turn'd itself to Ralpho's shape, 
So like in person, garo, and pitch, 
'Twas hard t' interpret which was which. 

For Ralpho had no sooner told 7« 

The Lady all he had t' unfold, 
But she convey'd him out of sight, 
To entertain th' approaching Knight ; 
And while he gave himself diversion, 
T' accommodate his beast and person, m 

And put his beard into a posture 
At best advantage to accost her. 
She order'd th' anti-masquerade 
(For his reception) aforesaid : 
But when the ceremony was done, ^ 

The lights put out, the Furies gone, 
.And Hudibras, among the rest, 
Convey'd away, as Ralpho guess'd, 
The wretched caitiff, all alone 
(As he belie v'd), began to moan, so 

And tell his story to himself. 
The Knight mistook him for an elf; 
And did so still, till he began 
To scruple at Ralpho's outward man, 
And thought, because they oft agreed 9$ 

T' appear in one another's stead, 

V. 77. Vav. ' But she convoy'd him.* 



78 HUDIBRAS. 

And act the saint's and devil's paii; 

With undistingLiishable art, 

They might have done so now, perhaps, 

And put on one another's shapes ; lOO 

And therefore, to resolve the doubt, 

He star'd upon him, and cry'd out, 

"Wliat art ? My squire, or that bold sprite 

That took his place and shape to-night ? 

Some busy Independent pug, i05 

Retainer to his synagogue ? 

Alas ! quoth he, I 'm none of those 

Your bosom friends, as you suppose. 

But Ralph himself, your trusty Squire, 

Wh' has dragg'd your Dunship out o' th' mire, i lo 

Aiid from th' enchantments of a Widow, 

Wh' had turn'd you int' a beast, have freed you ; 

And, though a prisoner of war, 

Have brought you safe where now you are ; 

Which you would' gratefully repay 115 

Your constant Presbyterian way. — 

That 's stranger, (quoth the Knight) and stranger ; 

Who gave thee notice of my danger ? 

Quoth he, Th' infernal conjurer 
Pursu'd, and took me prisoner ; 130 

And, knowing you were hereabout, 
Brought me along to find you out ; 
Where I, in hugger-mugger hid, 
Have noted all they said or did : 

v. 103. Var. ' Spright.' V. 110. Var. ' Donship.' 



PART III. CANTO HI. 79 

A.nd, though they lay to him the pageant, i2s 

I did not see him, nor his agent ; 

Who play'd their sorceries out of sight, 

T' avoid a fiercer second fight. — 

But didst thou see no devils then ? — 

Not one (quoth he) but carnal men, i30 

A little worse than fiends in hell. 

And that she-devil Jezebel, 

That laugh'd and tee-he'd with derision 

To see them take your deposition. 

AYhat then (quoth Hudibras) was he laa 

That play'd the dev'l t' examine me ? — 
A rallying weaver in the town, 
That did it in a parson's gown ; 
Whom all the parish takes for gifted. 
But, for my part, I ne'er belie v'd it : 140 

In which you told them all your feats, 
Your conscientious frauds and cheats ; 
Deny'd your whipping, and confess'd 
The naked truth of all the rest, 
More plainly than the rev'rend writer us 

That to our churches veil'd his mitre ; 

V. 145. Though there were more than one in those times 
that this character would have suited, yet it is probable that 
Mr. George Graham, Bishop of Orkney, is sneered at in this 
place by !Mr. Butler. He was so base as to renounce and ab- 
jure Episcopacy, signing the abjuration with his own hand, at 
Breckness, in Strones, Febiaiary 11, 1639. To this remark- 
fble incident Bishop Hall alludes ("Epistle Dedicatory," pre- 
^xed to his " Episcopacy by Divine Right, &c." 1640, p. 1), 
5\'here he olj serves, " That he craved pardon for having nc- 



80 HUDIBRAS. 

All which they took in black and white, 
And cudgel'd me to underwrite. 

What made thee, when they all were gone, 
And none but thou and I alone, i5o 

To act the devil, and forbear 
To rid me of my heUish fear ? 

Quoth he, I knew your constant rate, 
And frame of sp'rit, too obstinate 
To be by me prevail'd upon i&s 

With any motives of my own ; 
And therefore strove to counterfeit 
The dev'l a while, to nick your wit ; 
The dev'l, that is your constant crony, 
That only can prevail upon ye ; i6fl 

Else we might still have been disputing, 
And they with weighty drubs confuting. 

The Knight, who now began to find 
They 'd left the enemy behind, 
And saw no further harm remain les 

But feeble weariness and pain, 
Perceiv'd, by losing of their way, 
They 'ad gain'd th' advantage of the day, 
And, by declining of the road. 
They had, by chance, their rear made good ; i ,0 



cepted his Episcopal function, as if he had thereby committed 
some heinous offence."" Upon which lie uses the following 
exclamation: " Good God! what is this I have lived to hear? 
That a Bishop, in a Christian assembly, should rehounw; liis 
Episcopal function, and cry Mercy for his now abanduiic' 
eallinff." 



PART III. CANTO TIT. 81 

He ventar'd to dismiss his fear, 

riiat parting's wont to rant and tear, 

And give the desperat'st attack 

To danger still behind its back : 

f^or having paus'd to recollect, 17a 

And on his past success reflect, 

T' examine and consider why, 

And whence, and how, he came to fly, 

Ajid when no devil had appear'd. 

What else it could be said he fear'd, iw) 

It put him in so fierce a rage. 

He once resolv'd to re-engage ; 

Toss'd, like a foot-ball, back again 

With shame, and vengeance, and disdain. 

Quoth he. It was thy cowardice i85 

That made me from this leaguer rise, 

And, when I 'ad half-reduc'd the place, 

To quit it infamously base ; 

Was better cover'd by the new- 

Arriv'd detachment than I knew 190 

T«.' slight my new acquests, and run, 

Victoriously, from battles won ; 

And, reck'ning all I gain'd or lost. 

To sell them cheaper than they cost ; 

To make me put myself to flight, ips 

And, conqu'ring, run away by night ; 

To drag me out, which th' haughty foe 

Durst never have presum'd to do ; 

To mount me in the dark by forc^ 

Upon the bare ridge 0^' my horse, 200 

vox.. II. <» 



82 HUDIBRAS. 

Expos'd in querpo to their rage, 

Without my arms and equi^>age ; 

Lest, if they ventur'd to pursue, 

I might th' unequal fight renew ; 

And, to preserve thy outward man, 203 

Assum'd my place, and led the van. 

All this (quoth Ralph) I did, 'tis true, 
Not to preserve myself, but you : 
You, who were damn'd to baser drubs 
Than wretches feel in powd'ring tubs, 210 

To mount two-wheel'd caroches, worse 
Than managing a wooden horse ; 
Dragg'd out through straiter holes by th' ( ars, 
Eras'd, or coup'd for perjurers : 
Who, though th' attempt had prov'd in vain, 316 
Had had no reason to complain ; 
But, since it prosper'd, 'tis unhandsome 
To blame the hand that paid your ransom. 
And rescued your obnoxious bones 
From unavoidable battoons. 220 

The enemy was reinforc'd. 
And we disabled and unhors'd, 
Disarm'd, unqualify'd for fight, 
And no way left but hasty flight, 
Which, though as desp'rate in th' attempt, 22a 

Has giv'n you freedom to condemn 't. 

But, were our bones in fit condition 
To reinforce the expedition, 
'Tis now unseas'nable and vain 
To think of falling on again : q3q 



PART III. CANTO III. 83 

No martial project to surprise 

Can ever be attempted twice ; 

Nor cast design serve afterwards, 

As gamesters tear their losing cards. 

Beside, our bangs of man and beast <23fi 

Are fit for nothing-now but rest, 

And for a while will not be able 

To rally and prove serviceable : 

And therefore I, with reason, ciiose 

This stratagem t'amuse our foes 240 

To make an hon'rable retreat, 

And wave a total sure defeat : 

For those that fly may fight again, 

Which he can never do that 's slain. 

Hence timely running 's no mean part 245 

Of conduct in the martial art. 

By which some glorious feats achieve, 

As citizens by breaking thrive. 

And cannons conquer armies, while 

They seem to draw off and recoil ; 2so 

Is held the gallant'st course, and bravest, 

To great exploits, as well as safest; 

That spares th' expense of time and pains, 

And dang'rous beating out of brams ; 

And, in the end, prevails as certain 255 

As those that never trust to Fortune ; 

But make their fear do execution 

Beyond the stoutest resohition ; 

As earthquakes kill without a blow 

And, only trembling, overthrow. >i60 



84 HUDIBRAS. 

If th' Ancients crown'd their bravest men 

That only sav'd a citizen, 

What victory could e'er be won 

If ev'ry one would save but one ; 

Or fight endanger'd to be lost, sei 

Wliere all resolve to save the most ? 

By this means, when a battle 's won, 

The war 's as far from being done ; 

For those that save themselves, and fly, 

Go halves at least i' th' victory ; 270 

And sometime, when the loss is small. 

And danger great, they challenge all ; 

Print new additions to their feats, 

And emendations in Gazettes ; 

And when, for furious haste to run, 375 

They durst not stay to fire a gun, 

Have done 't with bonfires, and at home 

Made squibs and crackers overcome ; 

To set the rabble on a flame. 

And keep their governors from blame, 28(1 

Disperse the news the pulpit tells, 

Confirm'd with fire-works and with bells ; 

And, though reduc'd to that extreme. 

They have been forc'd to sing Te Deum ; 

Yet, with religious blasphemy, isk 

By flatt'ring Heaven with a lie. 

And, for their beating, giving thanks, 

They 've rais'd recruits, and fiU'd their ranks : 

For those who run from th' enemy. 

Engage them equally to fly ; 298 



PART III. CANTO III. 85 

And when the fight becomes a chace, 

Those win the day that win the race ; 

And that which would not pass in fights, 

Has done the feat with easy flights ; 

Recover'd many a desp'rate campaign 295 

With Bourdeaux, Burgundy, and Champaign; 

Restor'd the fainting high and mighty 

With brandy-wine, and aqua-vitge ; 

And made 'em stoutly overcome 

With Bacrack, Hoccamore, and Mum ; 300 

With th' uncontrol'd decrees of Fate 

To victory necessitate; 

With which, although they run or burn, 

They unavoidably return ; 

Or else their sultan populaces sofi 

Still strangle all their routed Bassa's. 

Quoth Hudibras, I understand 
What fights thou mean'st at sea and land, 
And who those were that run away, 
And yet gave out th' had won the day ; 310 

Although the rabble souc'd them for 't, 
O'er head and ears, in mud and dirt. 
'Tis true our modern way of war 
Is grown more politic by far. 
But not so resolute and bold, aif 

Nor ty'd to honour as the old. 
For now they laugh at giving battle, 
Unless it be to herds of cattle ; 

V. 300. Var. ' Ba-charack ' and ' Bacracli.' — . Rhenish 
W^ine so called from the town near which it is produced. 



^6 HUDIBRAS. 

Or fighting convoys of provision, 

The whole design o' the expedition, 330 

And not with downright blows to rout 

The enemj, but eat them out : 

As fighting, in all beasts of prey, • 

And eating, are jDerforrn'd one way, 

To give defiance to their teeth, 338 

And fight their stubborn guts to death ; 

And those achieve the high'st renown. 

That bring the other stomachs down. 

There 's now no fear of wounds nor maiming, 

All dangers are reduc'd to famine, aso 

And feats of arms, to plot, design. 

Surprise, and stratagem, and mine ; 

But have no need nor use of courage. 

Unless it be for glory, or forage : 

For, if they fight, 'tis but by chance, saa 

When one side vent'ring to advance, 

And come uncivilly too near, 

Are charg'd unmercifully i' th' rear, 

And forc'd, with terrible resistance, 

To keep hereafter at a distance, 340 

To pick out ground to incamp upon, 

Where store of largest rivers run. 

That serve, instead of peaceful barriers. 

To part th' engagements of their warriors ; 

Where both from side to side may skip, 348 

And only encounter at bo-peep : 

V. 328. Var. ' The other's stomachs.' 



PART III. CANTO III. 87 

For men are found the stouter-hearted 

The certainer they 're to be parted, 

And therefore post themselves in bogs, 

As th' ancient mice attack'd the frogs, sso 

And made their mortal enemy. 

The water-rat, their strict ally. 

For 'tis not now who 's stout and bold ? 

But who bears hunger best and cold ? 

And he 's approv'd the most deserving, 355 

Who longest can hold out at starving ; 

And he that routs most pigs and cows, 

The formidablest man of prowess. 

So th' Emperor Caligula, 

That triumph'd o'er the British sea, seo 

Took crabs and oysters prisoners, 

And lobsters, 'stead of cuirassiers ; 

Engag'd his legions in fierce bustles. 

With periwinkles, prawns, and muscles. 

And led his troops with furious gallops, tes 

To charge whole regiments of scallops ; 

Not like their ancient way of war. 

To wait on his triumphal car ; 

But when he went to dine or sup. 

More bravely ate his captives up, 370 

And left all war, by his example, 

Reduc'd to vict'ling of a camp well. 

Quoth Ralph, By all that you have said, 
And twice as much that I could add, 
'Tis plain you cannot now do worse - yya 

Than take this cut-of-fashion'd course ; 



88 HUDIBRA9. 

To hope, by stratagem, to woo her, 

Or waging battle to subdue her : 

Though some have done it m romances, 

And bang'd them into am'rous fancies ; 989 

As those who won the Amazons, 

B J wanton drubbing of their bones ; 

And stout Rinaldo gain'd his bride 

B J courting of her back and side. 

But since those times and feats are over, gas 

They are not for a modern lover, 

When mistresses are too cross-grain'd, 

By such addresses to be gain'd ; 

And, if they were, would have it out 

With many another kind of bout. 599 

Therefore I hold no course s' infeasible. 

As this of force to win the Jezebel ; 

To storm her heart, by th' antic charms 

Of ladies errant, force of arms ; 

But rather strive by law to win her, 89i 

And try the title you have in her. 

Your case is clear, you have her word, 

And me to witness the accord ; 

Besides two more of her retinue 

To testify what pass'd between you ; 40o 

More probable, and Hke to hold. 

Than hand, or seal, or breaking gold, 

For which so many, that renounc'd 

Their plighted contracts, have been trounc'd ; 

And bills upon record been found, 40 

That forc'd the ladies to compound ; 



PART III. CANTO III. 89 

And thai, unless I miss the matter, 

Is all the bus'ness you look after. 

Besides, encounters at the bar 

Are braver now than those in war ; 410 

In which the law does execution, 

With less disorder and confusion ; 

Has more of honour in 't, some hold, 

Not like the new way, but the old ; 

When those the pen had drawn together, 4U 

Decided quarrels with the feather, 

And winged arrows kill'd as dead, 

And more than bullets now of lead : 

So all their combats now, as then. 

Are manag'd chiefly by the pen ; «^ 

That does the feat, with braver vigours. 

In words at length, as well as figures ; 

Is judge of all the world performs 

In voluntary feats of arms ; 

And whatsoe'er 's achiev'd in fight, ja 

determines which is wrong or right : 

For whether you prevail or lose, 

All must be tried there in the close ; 

And therefore 'tis not wise to shun 

What you must trust to ere ye 've done. 4ii 

The law, that settles all you do. 
And marries where you did but woo ; 
That makes the most perfidious lover, 
A lady, that 's as false, recover : 
And, if it judge upon your side, 4af 

Will soon extend her for your bride. 



90 HUDIBRAS. 

And put lier person, goods, or lands, 
Or which you like best, int' your hands. 

For law 's the wisdom of all ages, 
And manag'd by the ablest sages ; 440 

Who, though their bus'ness at the bar 
Be but a kind of civil war. 
In which th' engage with fiercer dudgeons 
Than e'er the Grecians did, and Trojans, 
They never manage the contest ««§ 

T' impair their public interest ; 
Or by their controversies lessen 
The dignity of their profession : 
Not like us Brethren, who divide 
Our Common-wealth, the Cause, and side ; 490 
And though we're all as near of kindred 
As th' outward man is to the inward. 
We agree in nothing, but to wrangle 
About the slightest fingle-fangle ; 
While lawyers have more sober sense, 45s 

Than t' argue at their own expense, 
But make the best advantages 
Of others' quarrels, like the Swiss ; 
And out of foreign controversies, 
By aiding both sides, fill their purses ; 460 

But have no int'rest in the cause 
For which th' engage, and wage the laws ; 
Nor further prospect than their pay. 
Whether they lose or win the day. 
And though th' abounded in all ages, 46> 

With sundry learned clerks and sages ; 



PART III. CANTO III. 91 

Though all their business be dispute, 

Which way they canvass ev'ry suit, 

They 've no disputes about their ai*t. 

Nor in polemics controvert ; 470 

While all professions else are found 

With nothing but disputes t' abound : 

Divines of all sorts, and physicians, 

Philosophers, mathematicians ; 

The Galenist, and Paracelsian, 475 

Condemn the way each other deals in ; 

Anatomists dissect and mangle, 

To cut themselves out work to wrangle ; 

Astrologers dispute their dreams, 

That in their sleeps they talk of schemes ; 480 

And heralds stickle who got who, 

So many hundred years ago. 

But lawyers are too wise a nation 
T' expose their trade to disputation ; 
Or make the busy rabble judges 486 

Of all their secret piques and grudges ; 
In which, whoever wins the day. 
The whole profession 's sure to pay. 
Beside, no mountebanks, nor cheats, 
Dare undertake to do their feats ; 400 

When in all other sciences 
They swarm like insects, and increase. 

For what bigot durst ever draw, 

V. 475. Galen was born in the year 130, and lived to the 
year 200. Paracelsus was born the latter end of the 15th, and 
lived almost to the middle of the 10th centuiy. 



92 HUI>IiJliAS. 

By inward light, a deed in law ? 

Or could hold forth, by revelation, 4d» 

An answer to a declaration ! 

For those that meddle with their tools, 

Will cut their fingers, if they 're fools : 

And if you follow their advice, 

In bills and answers, and replies, m 

They '11 write a love-letter in Chancery, 

Shall bring her upon oath to answer ye, 

And soon reduce her to b' your wife. 

Or make her weary of her life. 

The Knight, who us'd with tricks and shifts -05 
To edify by Ralpho's Gifts, 
But in appearance cry'd him down. 
To make 'em better seem his own 
(All plagiaries' constant course 
Of sinking, when they take a purse), 510 

Resolv'd to follow his advice. 
But kept it from him by disguise ; 
Ajid, after stubborn contradiction. 
To counterfeit his own conviction. 
And, by transition, fall upon 516 

The resolution as his own. 

Quoth he, This gambol thou advisest 
Is, of all others, the un wisest : 
For, if I think by law to gain her, 
There 's nothing sillier nor vainer. vii 

*Tis but to hazard my pretence, 

V. 507. Var. ' Cry'd them down-' 



PART III. CANTO III. 95 

Wliera nothing 's certain but tli' expense ; 
To act against myself, and traverse 
My suit and title to her favours ; 
And if she should, which Heav'n forbid, sss 

O'erthrow me, as the Fiddler did, 
What after-course have I to take, 
Gainst losing all I have at stake ? 
He that with injury is griev'd, 
And goes to law to be reliev'd, mo 

Is silUer than a sottish chouse, 
Who, when a thief has robb'd his house, 
Applies himself to cunning men, 
To help him to his goods agen ; 
When all he can expect to gain, MS 

Is but to squander more in vain : 
And yet I have no other way. 
But is as difficult to play ; 
For to reduce her by main force. 
Is now in vain ; by fair means, worse ; mo 

But worst of all to give her over. 
Till she 's as desp'rate to recover : 
For bad games are thrown up too soon, 
Until they 're never to be won ; 
But since I have no other course, mi 

But is as bad t' attemj)t, or worse. 
He that compHes against his will, 
Is of his own opinion still. 
Which he may adhere to, yet disown, 
For reasons to himself best known ; »!iq 

But 'tis not *o b' avoided now. 



94 HUDIBRAS. 

For Sidrophel resolves to sue ; 

Whom I must answer, or begin, 

IneTitably, first with him ; 

For I 've receiv'd advertisement, Mi 

By times enough of his intent ; 

And knowing he that first complains 

Th' advantage of the business gains ; 

For courts of justice understand 

The plaintifi" to be th' eldest hand ; 660 

Who what he pleases may aver. 

The other nothing till he swear ; 

Is freely admitted to all grace. 

And lawful favour, by his place ; 

And, for his bringing custom in, 660 

Has all advantages to win : 

I, who resolve to oversee 

No lucky opportunity. 

Will go to counsel, to advise 

Which way t' encounter, or surprise ; mo 

And, after long consideration. 

Have found out one to fit th' occasion, 

Most apt for what I have to do. 

As counsellor, and justice too. 

And truly so, no doubt, he was, &is 

A lawyer fit for such a case. 

An old dull sot, who told the clock 
For many years at Bridewell-dock, 
kt Westminster, and Hicks's-hall, 
Ajid hiccius-doccius play'd in all ; 
Where, in all governments and times, 



PART III. CANTO III. DA 

H' had been both friend and foe to crimes, 

Ajid us'd two equal ways of gaining, 

By hind'ring justice, or maintaining : 

To many a whore gave privilege, see, 

And whipp'd, for want of quarterage ; 

Cart-loads of bawds to prison sent 

For being behind a fortnight's rent ; 

And many a trusty pimp and crony 

To Puddle-dock, for want of money : 590 

Engag'd the constable to seize 

All those that would not break the peace ; 

Nor give him back his own foul words, 

Though sometimes commoners, or lords, 

And kept 'em prisoners of course, 695 

For being sober at ill hours ; 

That in the morning he might free 

Or bind 'em over for his fee. 

Made monsters fine, and puppet-plays, 

For leave to practise in their ways ; 600 

Farm'd out all cheats, and went a-share 

With th' headborough and scavenger ; 

And made the dirt i' th' streets compound 

For taking up the pubhc ground ; 

The kennel, and the king's highway, eoe 

For being unmolested, pay ; 

Let out the stocks, and whipping-post, 

And cage, to those that gave him most ; 

Impos'd a tax on bakers' ears. 

And, for false weights, on chandelers ; sio 

Made victuallers and vintners fine 



D6 nUDIBRAS. 

For arbitrary ale and wine ; 

But was a kind and constant friend 

To all that regularly' offend ; 

As residentiary bawds, 6ii 

And brokers that receive stol'n goods ; 

That cheat in lawful mysteries, 

And pay church duties and his fees ; 

But was implacable and awkward 

To all that interlop'd and hawker'd. 620 

To this brave man tlie Knight repairs 
For counsel in his law-affairs ; 
And found him mounted, in his pew. 
With books and money plac'd, for shew, 
Like nest-eggs, to make clients lay, esfi 

And for his false opinion pay : 
To whom the Knight, with comely grace, 
Put off his hat, to put his case ; 
Wliich he as proudly entertain'd 
As th' other courteously strain'd ; 63Q 

And, t' assure him 'twas not that 
He look'd for, bid him put on 's hat. 

Quoth he. There is one Sidrophel, 
Whom I have cudgel'd — Very well. — 
And now he brags to 've beaten me — 63? 

Better and better stiU, quoth he — 
And vows to stick me to a wall 
Where'er he meets me — Best of all. — 
"Tis true, the knave has taken 's oath 

V. 619. Var. ' Aixker'd.' 



PART III. CANTO III. 97 

That I robb'd him — Well done, in troth — 640 

When he 'as confess'd he stole my cloak, 

And pick'd mj fob, and what he took ; 

Which was the cause that made me bang him. 

And take my goods again — Marry, hang him. — 

Now, whether I should before-hand g45 

Swear he robb'd me ? — I understand — 

Or bring my action of conversion 

And trover for my goods ? — Ah, whoreson — 

Or if 'tis better to indict 

And bring him to his trial ? — Right — eso 

Prevent what he designs to do, 

And swear for th' state against him ? — True. — 

Or whether he that is defendant 

In this case has the better end on 't ; 

Who, putting in a new cro3S-bill, 656 

May traverse the action ? — Better still. — 

Then there 's a lady too — Aye, marry — 

That 's easily prov'd accessary ; 

A Widow, who, by solemn vows 

Contracted to me for my spouse, 660 

Combin'd with him to break her word, 

And has abetted all — Good Lord ! — 

Suborn'd th' aforesaid Sidrophel 

To tamper with the dev'l of hell ; 

Who put me into a horrid fear, 665 

Fear of my life — Make that appear — 

Made an assault with fiends and men 

Upon my body — Good agen — 

And kept me in a deadly fright 

VOL. IT. 7 



98 HUDIBRAS. 

And false imprisonment all night ; 67Q 

Meanwhile they robb'd me, and my horse, 
And stole my saddle — Worse and worse — 
And made me mount upon the bare ridge, 
T' avoid a wretcheder miscarriage. 

Sir (quoth the lawyer), not to flatter ye, fiia 
You have as good and fair a battery 
As heart can wish, and need not shame 
The proudest man alive to claim : 
For if they 've us'd you as you say, 
Marry, quoth I, God give you joy ; 990 

I would it were my case, I 'd give 
More than I '11 say, or you '11 believe : 
I would so trounce her, and her purse, 
I 'd make her kneel for better or worse ; 
For matrimony and hanging, here, jw 

Both go by destiny so clear. 
That you as sure may pick and choose, 
As cross I win and pile you lose: 
And, if I durst, I would advance 
As much in ready maintenance 69s 

As upon any case I 've known ; 
But we that practise dare not own: 
The law severely contrabands 
Our taking bus'ness off men's hands ; 
' lis common barratry, that bears sas 

Point-blank an action 'gainst our ears, 
And crops them till there is not leather 
To stick a pin in, left of either ; 
For vrhich some do the summer-sault. 



FART IJI. CANTO IIT. 99 

And o'er the bar, like tumblers, vault; 700 

But you may swear, at any rate. 

Things not m nature, for the state ; 

For, in all courts of justice here, 

A witness is not said to swear, 

But make oath, that is, in plain terms, 70a 

To forge whatever he affirms. 

(I thank you, quoth the Knight, for that, 

Because 'tis to my purpose pat — ) 

For Justice, though she 's painted blind, 

Is to the weaker side inclin'd, 710 

Like Charity ; else right and wrong 

Could never hold it out so long. 

And, like blind Fortune, with a sleight, 

Convey men's interest and right 

From Stiles's pocket into Nokes's, 715 

As easily as hocus-pocus ; 

Plays fast and loose, makes men obnoxious, 

And clear again, like hiccius-doccius. 

Then, whether you would take her hfe, 

Or but recover her for your wife, 720 

Or be content with what she has. 

And let all other matters pass. 

The bus'ness to the law 's alone. 

The proof is all it looks upon ; 

And you can want no witnesses 736 

To swear to any thing you please. 

That hardly get their mere expenses 

V. 723. Var. ' AU one.' 



100 HUDTBRAS. 

By til' labour of their consciences, 

Or letting out to hire their ears 

To affidavit-customers, 730 

At inconsiderable values, 

To serve for jurymen, or tales. 

Although retain'd in th' hardest matters 

Of trustees and administrators. 

For that (quoth he) let me alone ; 733 

We 've store of such, and all our own, 
Bred up and tutor'd by our Teachers, 
The ablest of all conscience-stretchers. 

That 's well (quoth he), but I should guess, 
By weighing all advantages, 74c 

Your surest way is first to pitch 
On Bongey, for a water-witch ; 
And when ye 've hang'd the conjurer. 
Ye 've time enough to deal with her. 
In th' int'rim spare for no trepans 745 

To draw her neck into the bans ; 
Ply her with love-letters and billets. 
And bait 'em well, for quirks and quillets. 



V. 742. Bongey was a Franciscan, and lived towards the 
end of the thirteenth century, a doctor of divinity in Oxford, 
and a particular acquaintance of Friar Bacon's. In that 
ignorant age, every thing that seemed extraordinary was re- 
puted magic, and so botli Bacon and Bongey went under the 
imputation of studying tlie black art. Bongey also publishing 
a treatise of natural magic, confirmed some well-meaning 
credulous people in this opinion : but it was altogether ground- 
less; for Bongey was chosen provincial of his order, being 
oerscr of most excellent parts and piety. 



TART III. CANTO III. 101 

« 

With trains t' inveigle and surprise 

Her heedless answers and replies ; 760 

And if she miss the mouse-trap linos, 

They '11 serve for other by-designs ; 

And make an artist understand 

To copy out her seal or hand ; 

Or find void places in the paper 75S 

To steal in something to intrap her ; 

Till with her worldly goods and body, 

Spite of her heart, she has endow'd ye : 

Retain all sorts of witnesses, 

That ply i' th' temples under trees, 760 

Or walk the round, with Knights o' th' Posts, 

About the cross-legg'd knights, their hosts ; 

Or wait for customers between 

The pillar-rows in Lincoln's Inn ; 

Where vouchers, forgers, common-bail, 765 

And affidavit-men, ne'er fail 

T' expose to sale all sorts of oaths. 

According to their ears and clothes. 

Their only necessary tools, 

Besides the Gospel, and their souls ; irc 

And when y' are furnish'd with all purveys 

I shall be ready at your service. 

I would not give (quoth Hudibras) 
A straw to understand a case, 
Without the admirable skill 77fi 

To wind and manage it at will ; 
To veer, and tack, and steer a cause 
Against the weather-gage of laws, 



102 HUDIBRAS. 

And ring the changes upon cases, 

As plain as noses upon faces, 78t 

As you have well instructed me, 

For which you 've earn'd (here 'tis) your fee. 

I long to practise your advice. 

And try the subtle artifice; 

To bait a letter, as you bid : 785 

As, not long after, thus he did ; 

For, having pump'd up all his wit. 

And humm'd upon it, thus he writ. 

V. 782. The beggar's prayer for the lawyer would have 
suited this gentleman very well. See the works of J. Taylor, 
the Water-poet, p. 101. " May the terms be everlasting to 
thee, thou man of tongue; and may contentions grow and 
multiply! may actions beget actions, and cases engender ca- 
ses, as thick as hops ; may every day of the year be a Shrove- 
Tuesday ; let proclamations forbid fighting, to increase action? 
of battery ; that thy cassock may be three-piled, and the welts 
of thy gown may not grow threadbare ! '* 



HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 103 



A-N HEROICAL EPISTLE OF HUDIBRAS TO 
HIS LADY. 

I WHO was once as great as Caesar, 

Am now reduc'd to Nebuchadnezzar ; 

And from as fam'd a conqueror 

As ever took degree in war, 

Or did his exercise in battle, b 

By you turn'd out to grass with cattle : 

For since I am deny'd access 

To all my earthly happiness, 

Am fallen from the paradise 

Of your good graces, and fair eyes ; lO 

Lost to the world, and you, I 'm sent 

To everlasting banishment. 

Where all the hopes I had to 've won 

Your heart, being dash'd, will break my own. 

Yet if you were not so severe 15 

To pass your doom before you hear, 

* This Epistle was to be the result of all the fair methods 
the Knight was to use in gaining the Widow : it therefore re- 
quired all his wit and dexterity to draw from this artful Lady 
B,n unwary answer. If the plot succeeded, he was to compel 
her immediately, by law, to a compliance with his desires. 
But the Lady was too cunning to give him such a handle as 
he longed for: on the coniirary, her answer silenced all his 
pretensions. 



104 HUDIBKAS TO HIS LADY. 

You 'd find, upon mj just defence, 

How much ye 've wrong'd my innocence. 

That once I made a vow to you. 

Which yet is unperform'd, 'tis true ; aa 

But not because it is unpaid, 

'Tis violated, though delay'd : 

Or, if it were, it is no fault 

So heinous as you 'd have it thought, 

To undergo the loss of ears, ^ 

Like vulgar hackney perjurers : 

For there 's a difference in the case 

Between the noble and the base ; 

Who always are observ'd t' have done 't 

Upon as different an account ; m 

The one for great and weighty cause, 

To salve, in honour, ugly flaws ; 

for none are like to do it sooner 

Than those who 're nicest of their honour : 

The other, for base gain and pay, s« 

Forswear and perjure by the day. 

And make th' exposing and retailing 

Their souls and consciences, a calling. 

It is no scandal nor aspersion 
Upon a great and noble person, ^■■ 

To say he naturally abhorr'd 
Th' old-fashion'd trick to keep his word, 
Though 'tis perfidiousness and shame. 
In meaner men, to do the same : 
For to be able to forget 49 

Is found more useful to the great 



lUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 105 

Than gout, or deafness, or bad eyes, 

To make them pass for wondrous wise. 

But though the law on perjurers 

Inflicts the forfeiture of ears, m 

It is not just, that does exempt 

The guilty, and punish th' innocent ; 

To make the ears repair the wrong 

Committed by th' ungovern'd tongue ; 

Ar\d, when one member is forsworn, &s 

Another to be cropt or torn. 

And if you should, as you design, 

By course of law recover mine. 

You 're like, if you consider right, 

Tr> gain but little honour by 't : eo 

For he that for his lady's sake 

Lays down his life, or hmbs, at stake, 

Does not so much deserve her favour. 

As he that pawns his soul to have her. 

This ye 've acknowledg'd I have done, 65 

Although you now disdain to own ; 

But sentence what you rather ought 

T' esteem good service than a fault. 

Besides, oaths are not bound to bear 

That literal sense the words infer ; • 70 

But, by the practice of the age, 

Are to be judg'd how far th' engage ; 

And where the sense by custom 's check't, 

Are found void and of none effect ; 

For no man takes or keeps a vow 75 

But just as he sees others do ; 



106 nUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 

Nor are th' obli2;'d to be so brittle 

As not to yield and bow a little : 

For as best temper'd blades are found, 

Before they break, to bend quite round ; m 

So truest oaths are still most tough, 

And, though they bow, are breaking proof. 

Then wherefore should they not b' allow'd 

In love a greater latitude ? 

For as the law of arms approves m 

All ways to conquest, so should love's ; 

And not be ty'd to true or false, 

But make that justest that prevails : 

For how can that which is above 

All empire, high and mighty love, so 

Submit its great prerogative 

To any other pow'r aUve ? 

Shall Love, that to no crown gives place, 

Become the subject of a case ? 

The fundamental law of Nature 0s 

Be over-rul'd by those made after ? 

Commit the censure of its cause 

To any but its own great laws ? 

Love, that 's the world's preservative, 

That keeps all souls of things aUve ; im 

Controls the mighty pow'r of Fate, 

And gives mankind a longer date ; 

The life of Nature, that restores 

As fast as Time and Death devours ; 

To whose free gift the world does owe 10a 

Not only earth, but heaven too : 



HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 107 

For love 's the only trade that 's driven, 

The interest of state in heaven, 

Which nothing but the soul of man 

Is capable to entertain. no 

For what can earth produce but love, 

To represent the joys above ? 

Or who but lovers can converse, 

Like angels, by the eye-discourse ? 

Address and compliment by vision, 116 

Make love, and court by intuition ? 

And burn in am'rous flames as fierce 

As those celestial ministers ? 

Then how can any thing offend 

hi order to so great an end ? 420 

Or Heav'n itself a sin resent 

That for its own supply was meant ? 

That merits, in a kind mistake, 

A pardon for th' offence's sake ? 

Or if it did not, but the cause las 

Were left to th' injury of the laws, 

What tyranny can disapprove 

There should be equity in love ? 

For laws that are inanimate. 

And feel no sense of love or hate ; iso 

That have no passion of their own, 

Nor pity to be wrought upon, 

Are only proper to inflict 

Revenge on criminals as strict : 

But to have power to forgive, isa 

Is empire and prerogative ; 



108 HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 

And 'tis in crowns a nobler gem 

To grant a pardon than condemn. 

Then since so few do what tliey ought, 

'Tis great t' indulge a well-meant fault ; 140 

For why should he who made address, 

All humble ways, without success, 

And met with nothing in return 

But insolence, affronts, and scorn. 

Not strive by wit to countermine, i4i 

And bravely carry his design ? 

He who was us'd so unlike a soldier. 

Blown up with philtres of love-powder ? 

Ajid, after letting blood, and purging, 

Condemn'd to voluntary scourging ; iso 

Alarm'd with many a horrid fright. 

And claw'd by goblins in the night ; 

Insulted on, revil'd, and jeer'd. 

With rude invasion of his beard ; 

And when your sex was foully scandal'd, isa 

As foully by the rabble handled ; 

Attack'd by despicable foes, 

And drubb'd with mean and vulgar blows ; 

And, after all, to be debarr'd 

So much as standing on his guard ; \w 

When horses, being spurr'd and prick'd. 

Have leave to kick for being kick'd ? 

Or why should you, whose mother-wits 
Are furnish'd with all perquisites ; 
That with your breeding teeth begin, les 

And nursing babies, that lie in, 



nUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 109 

B' allow'd to put all tricks upon 

Our cully sex, and we use none ? 

We, who have nothing but frail vows, 

Against jour stratagems t' oppose, • no 

Or oaths more feeble than your own, 

By which we are no less put down ? 

You wound, like Parthians, while you fly, 

And kiU with a retreating eye ; 

Retire the more, the more we press, 175 

To draw us into ambushes : 

As pirates all false colours wear, 

T' intrap th' unwary mariner ; 

So women, to surprise us, spread 

The borrow'd flags of white and red ; 180 

Display 'em thicker on their cheeks, 

Than their old grandmothers, the Picts; 

And raise more devils with their looks, 

Than conjurers' less subtle books : 

Lay trains of amorous intrigues, ha 

In tow'rs, and curls, and periwigs, 

"With greater art and cunning rear'd. 

Than Philip Nye's thanksgiving beard ; 

Prepost'rously t' entice and gain 

Those to adore 'em they disdain : 190 

^Vnd only draw them in to clog, 

With idle names, a catalogue. 

A lover is, the more he 's brave, 
T' his mistress but the more a slave. 
And whatsoever she commands, 190 

Becomes a favour from her hands ; 



110 IIUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 

\Vliich he 's oblig'd t' obey, and must, 

Whether it be unjust or just. 

Then when he is compelFd by her 

T' adventures he would else forbear, sot 

Who, with his honour, can withstand, 

Since force is greater than command ? 

And when necessity 's obey'd, 

Nothing can be unjust or bad : 

And therefore when the mighty pow*rs sos 

Of Love, our great ally, and yours, 

Join'd forces, not to be withstood 

By frail inamour'd flesh and blood, 

All I have done, unjust or ill. 

Was in obedience to your will ; 910 

And all the blame that can be due 

Falls to your cruelty and you. 

Nor are those scandals I confest, 

Against my will and interest. 

More than is daily done, of course, 315 

By all men, when they 're under force : 

Whence some, upon the rack, confess 

What th' hangman and their prompters please ; 

But are no sooner out of pain. 

Than they deny it all again. sac 

But when the devil turns confessor. 

Truth is a crime, he takes no pleasure 

To hear or pardon, Uke the founder 

Of liars, whom they all claim under : 

And therefore when I told him none, 331 

r think it was the wiser done. 



nUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. Ill 

Nor am I without precedent, 

The first that on th' adventure went ; 

All mankind ever did of course, 

And daily does the same, or worse. ssq 

For what romance can shew a lover, 

That had a lady to recover, 

And did not steer a nearer course. 

To fall aboard in his amours ? 

And what at first was held a crime, 235 

Has turn'd to hon'rable in time. 
To what a height did infant Rome, 

By ravishing of women, come ? 

When men upon their spouses seiz'd. 

And freely marry'd where they pleas'd, 240 

They ne'er forswore themselves, nor ly'd, 

Nor, in the mind they were in, dy'd ; 

Nor took the pains t' address and sue. 

Nor play'd the masquerade to woo : 

Disdam'd to stay for friends' consents, 349 

Nor juggled about settlements ; 

Did need no license, nor no priest. 

Nor friends, nor kindred, to assist. 

Nor lawyers, to join land and money 

In th' holy state of matrimony, ^50 

Before they settled hands and hearts, 

Till alimony or death departs ; 

Nor would endure to stay until 

They 'ad got the very bride's good will, 

V. 230. Var. ' Daily do.' 



112 HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 

But took a wise and shorter course 2bi 

To win the ladies, downright force ; 

And justly made 'em prisoners then, 

As they have, often since, us men, 

With acting plays, and dancing jigs, 

The luckiest of all Love's intrigues ; 26C 

And when they had them at their pleasure, 

They talk'd of love and flames at leisure ; 

For after matrimony 's over, 

He that holds out but half a lover, 

Deserves for every minute more 365 

Than half a year of love before ; 

For which the dames, in contemplation 

Of that best way of application, 

Prov'd nobler wives than e'er were known, 

By suit, or treaty, to be won ; 270 

And such as all posterity 

Could never equal, nor come nigh. 

For women first were made for men, 
Not men for them. — It follows, then. 
That men have right to ev'ry one, 27a 

And they no freedom of their own ; 
And therefore men have pow'r to choose, 
But they no charter to refuse. 
Hence 'tis apparent that, what course 
Soe'er we take to your amours, sm 

Though by the indirectest way, 
'Tis no injustice nor foul play ; 
And that you ought to take that course, 
As we take you, for better or worse. 



HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 113 

And gratefully submit to those 88S 

Who you, before another, choose. 

For why should ev'ry savage beast 

Exceed his great Lord's interest? 

Have freer pow'r than he, in Grace 

And Nature, o'er the creature has ? S90 

Because the laws he since has made 

Have cut off all the pow'r he had ; 

Retrench'd the absolute dominion 

That Nature gave him over women ; 

When all his pow'r will not extend S9S 

One law of Nature to suspend ; 

And but to offer to repeal 

The smallest clause, is to repel. 

This, if men rightly understood 

Their privilege, they would make good, soo 

And not, like sots, permit their wives 

T' encroach on their prerogatives ; 

For which sin they deserve to be 

Kept, as they are, in slavery : 

And this some precious Gifted Teachers, ao5 

Unrev'rently reputed Leachers, 

V. 305, 306. Sir Koger L'Estrange ('Key to Hudibras') 
mentions Mr. Case as one ; and ^Ir. Butler, in his Postliiimous 
works,* mentions Dr. Burgess and Hugh Peters; and the 
writer of a Letter to the Earl of Pembroke, 1647, p. 9, ob 

* It may be proper to obsei-ve here, once for all, that Butler 
left no genuine poems besides those in the possession of Mr. 
Lcngueville, and published by Mr. Tliy^r m 1759, which fonn 
thi subsequent part of this volume. 

-I "I.. II. 8 



Hi nUDlBRAS TO mS LADY. 

Aiid disobcy'd in making love, 

Have vow'd to all the world to prove, 

And make you suffer, as you ought, 

For that uncharitable fault: aio 

But I forget myself, and rove 

Beyond th' instructions of my love. 

Forgive me, Fair, and only blame 
Th' extravagancy of my flame. 
Since 'tis too much at once to shew aid 

Excess of love and temper too ; 
All I have said that 's bad and true, 
Was never meant to aim at you. 
Who have so sov'reign a control 
O'er that poor slave of yours, my soul, 830 

That, rather than to forfeit you. 
Has ventur'd loss of heaven too ; 
Both with an equal pow'r possest. 
To render all that serve you blest ; 
But none like him, who 's destin'd either 335 

To have or lose you both together ; 
And if you '11 but this fault release 
(For so it must be, since you please), 
I'll pay down all that vow and more, 



serves of Peters, " That it was offered to be publicly proved 
that he got both mother and daughter with child." I am glad 
(says an anonymous person, Thurloe's ' State Papers,' vol 
iv. p. 734) to hear that Mr. Peters shews his head again; it 
was leported here (Amsterdam, May 5, 1655) that he was 
found with a whore a-bed, and he grew mad, and ^^aid nothhio 
but i) blood, O blood, that troubles me." 



HUDIBRAS TO HIS LADY. 115 

Which you commanded, and I swore, sso 

And expiate, upon my skin, 

Th' arrears in full of all my sin ; 

For 'tis but just that I should pay 

Th' accruing penance for delay. 

Which shall be done, until it move 885 

Your equal pity and your love. 

The Knight, perusing this Epistle, 
Believ'd he 'ad brought her to liis whistle, 
And read it, like a jocund lover, 
With great applause t' himself twice over; S40 
Subscrib'd his name, but at a fit 
And humble distance, to his wit. 
And dated it with wondrous art, 
Giv'n from the bottom of his heart ; 
Then seal'd it with his coat of love, 848 

A smoking faggot — and above, 
Upon a scroll — I burn and weep, 
And near it — For her Ladyship, 
Of all her sex most excellent. 
These to her gentle hands present ; 860 

Then gave it to his faithful Squire, 
With lessons how t' observe and eye her. 

She first consider'd which was better, 
To send it back, or burn the letter : 
But guessing that it might import, asfi 

Though nothing else, at least her sport, 
She open'd it, and read it out. 



116 THE lady's ANSAVER. 

With manj a smile and leering flout ; 

Resolv'd to answer it in kind, 

And thus perform'd what she design'd. seo 



THE LADY'S ANSWER TO THE KNIGHT. 

That you 're a beast, and turn'd to grass, 

Is no strange news, nor ever was, 

At least to me, who once, jou know, 

Did from the pound replevin you, 

When both your sword and spurs were won 8 

In combat by an Amazon ; 

That sword that did, like Fate, determine* 

Th' inevitable death of vermin. 

And never dealt its furious blows, 

But cut the throats of pigs and cows, lo 

By Trulla was, in single fight, 

Disarm'd and wrested from its Knight, 

Your heels degraded of your spurs, 

And in the stocks close prisoners. 

Where still they 'ad lain, in base restraint, r 

If I, in pity' of your complaint. 

Had not, on honourable conditions, 

Releas'd 'em from the worst of prisons ; 

And what return that favour met 

You cannot (though you would) forget ; 21 



THE lady's answer. 117 

When, being free, you strove t' evade 

The oaths you had in prison made ; 

Forswore yourself, and first deny'd it, 

But after own'd, and justify'd it ; 

And when ye 'ad falsely broke one vow S6 

Absolv'd yourself by breaking two : 

For while you sneakingly submit, 

And beg for pardon at our feet, 

Discourag'd by your guilty fears, 

To hope for quarter for your ears, 80 

And doubting 'twas in vain to sue. 

You claim us boldly as your due ; 

Declare that treachery and force, 

To deal with us, is th' only course ; 

We have no title nor pretence w 

To body, soul, or conscience. 

But ought to fall to that man's share 

That claims us for his proper ware : 

These are the motives which, t' induce. 

Or fright us into love, you use ; M 

A pretty new way of gallanting. 

Between soHciting and ranting ! 

Like sturdy beggars, that intreat 

For charity at once, and threat. 

But since you undertake to prove 4S 

Your own propriety in love. 

As if we were but lawful prize 

In war between two enemies ; 

Or forfeitures, which ev'ry lover. 

That would but sue for, might recover ; so 



118 THE lady's answer. 

It is not hard to understand 
The myst'rj of this bold demand, 
That cannot at our persons aim, 
But something capable of claim. 

'Tis not those paltry counterfeit a 

French stones, which in our eyes you set, 
But our right diamonds, that inspire 
And set your amorous hearts on fire ; 
Nor can those false St. Martin's beads, 
"Which on our lips you lay for reds, « 

And make us wear, like Indian Dames, 
Add fuel to your scorching flames ; 
But those two rubies of the rock, 
Which in our cabinets we lock. 
'Tis not those orient pearls, our teeth, ei 

That you are so transported with ; 
But those we wear about our necks 
Produce those amorous effects. 
Nor is 't those threads of gold, our hair, 
The periwigs you make us wear ; 90 

But those bright guineas in our chests, 
That light the wildfire in your breasts. 
These love-tricks I 've been vers'd in so, 
That all their sly intrigues I know. 
And can unriddle, by their tones, n 

Their mystic cabals, and jargones ; 
Can tell what passions, by their sounds, 
Pine for the beauties of my grounds ; 
What raptures fond and amorous, 
O' th' charms and graces of my house ; 



THE lady's answer. 119 

What ecstasy and scorcliing flame, 

Burns for my money in my name ; 

What from th' unnatural desire 

To beasts and cattle, takes its fire ; 

What tender sigh, and trickling tear, es 

Longs for a thousand pounds a-year ; 

And languishing transports are fond 

Of statute, mortgage, bill, and bond. 

These are th' attracts which most men fall 
Enamour'd at first sight withal ; 90 

To these th' address with serenades. 
And court with balls and masquerades ; 
And yet, for all the yearning pain 
Ye 'ave sufFer'd for their loves in vain, 
I fear they '11 prove so nice and coy, m 

To have, and t' hold, and to enjoy. 
That, all your oaths and labour lost. 
They '11 ne'er turn Ladies of the Post. 
This is not meant to disapprove 
Your judgment, in your choice of loA^e ; 100 

Which is so wise, the greatest part 
Of mankind study 't as an art ; 
For love should, like a deodand. 
Still fall to th' owner of the land ; 
And where there 's substance for its ground, 10s 
Cannot but be more firm and sound, 
Than that which has the slighter basis 
Of airy virtue, wit, and graces ; 
Which is of such thin subtlety, 
rt steals and creeps in at the eye, no 



120 THE lady's answer. 

And, as it can't endure to stay, 
Steals out again as nice a waj. 

But love, that its extraction owns 
From solid gold and precious stones, 
Must, like its shining parents, prove iia 

i^s solid, and as glorious love. 
Hence 'tis you have no way t' express 
Our charms and graces but by these ; 
For what are lips, and eyes, and teeth. 
Which beauty' invades and conquers with, i2fl 
But rubies, pearls, and diamonds, 
With which a philtre bve commands ? 

This is the way all parents prove 
In managing their children's love. 
That force 'em t' intermarry and wed, 12s 

As if th' were burying of the dead ; 
Cast earth to earth, as in the grave. 
To join in wedlock all they have ; 
And, when th' settlement 's in force. 
Take all the rest for better or worse ; 130 

For money has a power above 
The stars, and fate, to manage love ; 
Whose arrows, learned poets hold. 
That never miss, are tipp'd with gold. 
And though some say the parents' claims isa 

To make love in their children's names, 
Who, many times, at once provide 
The nurse, the husband, and the bride ; 
Feel darts, and charms, attracts, and flame ^, 
And woo and contract in their names ; 14c 



THE lady's answer. 121 

A-iid, as they christen, use to many 'em. 

And, Hke their gossips, answer for 'em, 

Is not to give in matrimony. 

But sell and prostitute for money ; 

'Tis better than their own betrothing, ud 

Wlio often do 't for worse than nothing ; 

And, when they 're at their own dispose, . 

With greater disadvantage choose. 

All this is right ; but for the course 

You take to do 't, by fraud or force, iso 

'Tis so ridiculous, as soon 

As told, 'tis never to be done, 

No more than setters can betray, 

That tell what tricks they are to play. 

Marriage, at best, is but a vow, 155 

Which all men either break or bow ; 

Then what will those forbear to do, 

Who perjure when they do but woo ? 

Such as before-hand swear and lie. 

For earnest to their treachery, I80 

And, rather than a crime confess, 

With greater strive to make it less : 

Like thieves, who, after sentence past, 

Maintain their innocence to the last, 

And when their crimes were made appear 160 

As plain as witnesses can swear ; 

Yet, when the wretches come to die, 

Will take upon their death a lie. 

ISFor are the virtues you confess'd 

T' your ghostly father, as you guess'd, no 



122 THE lady's answer. 

So slight as to be justifj'd, 

By being as sbaraefully deny'd ; 

As if you thought your word would pass, 

Point-blank, on both sides of a case ; 

Or credit were not to be lost ns 

B' a brave Knight-errant of the Post, 

That eats perfidiously his word, 

And swears his ears through a two-inch board ; 

Can own the same thing, and disown, 

And perjure booty pro and con ; \m 

Can make the Gospel serve his turn. 

And help him out, to be forsworn ; 

When 'tis laid hands upon, and kist. 

To be betray'd and sold, like Christ. 

These are the virtues in whose name iss 

A right to all the world you claim. 



V. 183. The way of taking an oath is by laying the right 
hand upon the four Evangelists, which denominates it a cor- 
poral oath. This method was not always complied with in 
those iniquitous times. In the trial of Mr. Christopher Love, 
in the year 1651, one Jaquel, an evidence, laid his hand upon 
his buttons, and not upon the book, when the oath was ten- 
dered him ; and, Avhen he was questioned for it, he answered, 
" I am as good as under an oath." In the trial of the brave 
Colonel Morrice (who kept Pontefract Castle for the King) at 
York, by Thorp and Puleston, when he challenged one Brook, 
his professed enemy, the Court answered, He spoke too late : 
Brook was sworn already. Brook being asked the question, 
whether he were sworn or no, replied, " He had not yet kisse^. 
tha book." The Court answered, That was no matter ; it was 
but a ceremony; he was recorded sworn, and there was nc 
speaking against a record. 



THE lady's axswer. 123 

And boldly challenge a dominion, 

In Grace and Nature, o'er all women ; 

Of whom no less will satisfy, 

Than all the sex, your tyranny : IM 

Although you '11 find it a hard province, 

With all your crafty frauds and covins, 

To govern such a numerous crew, 

Who, one by one, now govern you ; 

For if you all were Solomons, IM 

And wise and great as he was once, 

You '11 find they 're able to subdue 

(As they did him) and baffle you. 

And if you are impos'd upon, 
'Tis by your own temptation done, soo 

That with your ignorance invite, 
And teach us how to use the sleight ; 
For when we find ye 're still more taken 
With false attracts of our own makinsr. 
Swear that 's a rose, and that 's a stone, 206 

Like sots, to us that laid it on. 
And what we did but slightly prime. 
Most ignorantly daub in rhyme, 
You force us, in our own defences, 
To copy beams and influences ; sio 

To lay perfections on the graces. 
And draw attracts upon our faces, 
And, in compliance to your wit. 
Your own false jewels counterfeit ; 
For by the practice of those arts, - alt 

We gain a greater share of hearts ; 



124 THE lady's answer. 

And those deserve in reason most, 



"j 



That greatest pains and study cost : 

For great perfections are, like heaven, 

Too rich a present to be given ; 2S0 

Nor are those master-strokes of beauty 

To be perform'd without hard duty, 

Which, when they 're nobly done, and well, 

The simjDle natural excel. 

How fair and sweet the planted rose, 225 

Beyond the wild, in hedges grows ! 

For, without art, the noblest seeds 

Of flowers degenerate into weeds : 

How dull and rugged, ere 'tis ground 

And polish'd, looks a diamond ! 330 

Though Paradise were e'er so fair. 

It was not kept so without care. 

The whole world, without art and dress, 

Would be but one great wilderness; 

And mankmd but a savage herd, 23a 

For all that Nature has conferr'd : 

This does but rough-hew and design, 

Leaves Ai't to poUsh and refine. 

Though women first were made for men. 

Yet men were made for them agen : 24c 

For when (outwitted by his wife) 

Man first turn'd tenant but for life, 

If women had not interven'd, 

Hi)w soon had mankind had an end ! 

And that it is in being yet, 24 

To us alone you are in debt. 



THE lady's answer. 125 

And where 's your liberty of choice, 

And our unnatural No-voice ? 

Since all the privilege you boast, 

And falsely usurp'd, or vainly lost, SfiO 

Is now our right, to whose creation 

You owe your happy restoration. 

And if we had not weighty cause 

To not appear, in making laws, 

"We could, in spite of all your tricks, 25fi 

And shallow formal poUtics, 

Force you our managements t' obey. 

As we to yours (in show) give way. 

Hence 'tis that, while you vainly strive 

T' advance your high prerogative, 360 

You basely, after all your braves, 

Submit, and own yourselves our slaves ; 

And 'cause we do not make it known. 

Nor publicly our int'rests own. 

Like sots, suppose we have no shares 2U 

In ordering you and your affairs. 

When all your empire and command 

You have from us, at second-hand ; 

As if a pilot, that appears 

To sit still only, while he steers, 270 

<^d does not make a noise and stir. 

Like every common marmer. 

Knew nothing of the card, nor star. 

And did not guide the man of-war : 

Nor we, because we don't appear 87a 

In Councils, do not govern there ; 



126 THE lady's answer. 

While, like the mighty Prester John, 

Whose person none dares look upon, 

But is preserv'd in close disguise 

From being made cheap to vulgar eyes, s«i 

W' enjoy as large a pow'r, unseen, 

To govern him, as he does men ; 

And, in the right of our Pope Joan, 

Make emperors at our feet fall down ; 

Or Joan de Pucelle's braver name, sai 

Our right to arms and conduct claim ; 

Who, though a spinster, yet was able 

To serve France for a Grand Constable. 

We make and execute all laws. 
Can judge the Judges and the Cause ; 290 

Prescribe all rules of right or wrong. 
To th' long robe, and the longer tongue, 
'Gainst which the world has no defence, 
But our more powerful eloquence. 
We manage things of greatest weight, 205 

In all the world's affairs of state ; 



V. 277. Prester John, an absolute prince, emperor of Abys- 
sinia, or Ethiopia. One of them is reported to have had 
seventy kings for his vassals, and so superb and arrogant, that 
none durst look upon him without his permission. 

V. 285. Joan of Arc, called also ' The Pucelle,' or ' Maid 
of Orleans.' 

V. 288. All this is a satire on King Charles II. who was 
governed so much by his mistresses: particnlarh' this lin€ 
Bftftms to allude to his French mistress, the Duchess of 
fortsraouth, given by that Court, whom she served in the im- 
Dortant post of governing King Charles as they directed. 



THE lady's answer. 127 

Are ministers of war and peace, 
That sway all nations how we please. 
We rule all churches, and their flocks, 
Heretical and orthodox ; M9 

And are the heavenly vehicles 
0' th' spirits in all Conventicles : 
By us is all commerce and trade 
Improv'd, and manag'd, and decay'd ; 
For nothing can go off so well, io« 

Nor bears that price, as what we sell. 
We rule in every public meeting. 
And make men do what we judge fitting ; 
Are magistrates in all great towns. 
Where men do nothing but wear gowns. 3io 

^ We make the man-of-war strike sail. 
And to our braver conduct veil. 
And when he 'as chas'd his enemies, 
Submit to us upon his knees. 
Is there an officer of state, si» 

Untimely rais'd, or magistrate, 
That 's haughty and imperious ? 
He 's but a journeyman to us. 
That, as he gives us cause to do 't, 
Can keep him in, or turn him out. 320 

We are your guardians, that increase, 
Or waste, your fortunes how we please ; 
And, as you humour us, can deal 
In all your matters, ill or well. 

'Tis we that can dispose, alone, 83« 

Whether ^our heirs shall be your own, 



128 THE lady's answeb. 

To whose integrity you must, 

In spite of all your caution, trust : 

And, 'less you fly beyond the seas, 

Can fit you with what heirs we please ; ssfl 

And force you t' own them, though begotten 

By French valets, or Irish footmen. 

Nor can the rigorousest course 

Prevail, unless to make us worse ; 

Who still, the harsher w^e are us'd, ssi 

Are further off from being reduc'd, 

And scorn t' abate, for any ills. 

The least punctilios of our wills. 

Force does but whet our wits t' apply 

Arts, born with us, for remedy, mc 

Which all your politics, as yet. 

Have ne'er been able to defeat : 

For, when ye 've tried all sorts of ways, 

What fools d' we make of you in plays ? 

Wliile all the favours we afford, 443 

Are but to girt you with the sword, 

To fight our battles in our steads, 

.\nd have your brains beat out o' your haads • 

Encounter, in despite of Nature, 

And fight at once with fire and water, 350 

With pirates, rocks, and storms, and seas, 

Our pride and vanity t' appease ; 

Kill one another, and cut throats. 

For our good graces and best thoughts ; 

To do your exercise for honour, 355 

A.nd have your brains beat out the sooner ; 



THE lady's answei;. 129 

Or crack'd, as learnedly, upon 

Things that are never to be known ; 

And still appear the more industrious 

The more your projects are preposterous ; 360 

To square the circle of the arts, 

And run stark mad to show your parts ; 

Expound the oracle of laws, 

And turn them which way we see cause ; 

Be our solicitors and agents, see 

And stand for us in all engagements. 

And these are all the mighty pow'rs 
You vainly boast to cry down ours. 
And what in real value '>> wanting, 
Supply with vapouring aiid ranting : s70 

Because yourselves are terrify'd, 
And stoop to one another's pride, 
Believe we have as little wit 
To be out-hector'd, and submit ; 
By your example, lose that right sts 

In treaties which we gain'd in fight ; 
And, terrify'd into an awe, 
Pass on ourselves a Sahque law ; 
Or, as some nations use, give place, 
And truckle to your mighty race ; 9S9 

Let men usurp th' unjust dominion, 
A.S if they were the better women. 



VOL. n. 



THE 



REMAINS OF BUTLEB 



PREFACE. 



It would be very unjust to the memory of a writer so much 
and so justly esteemed as Butler, to suppose it nec/essary to 
make any formal apology for the publication of these ' Re- 
mains.' Whatever is the genuine performance of a genius of 
his class cannot fail of recommending itself to every reader of 
taste ; and all that can be required from the Pubhsher is to 
satisfy the World that it is not imposed upon by false and 
spurious pretensions. 

This has already been attempted in the printed proposals 
for the subscription ; but as the perishing form of a loose pa- 
cer seems too frail a monument to preserve a testimony of so 
much importance, it cannot, I hope, be judged impertinent to 
repeat the substance of what I observed upon that occasion — 
That the. Manuscripts, from which this Work is printed, are 
Butler's own hand-writing, as evidently appears from some 
original letters of his, found amongst them — That, upon his 
death, they fell into the hands of his good friend Mr. W. Longue- 
vUle, of the Temple, who, as the writer of Butler's Life in- 
forms us, was at the charge of burying him — That, upon Mr. 
Longueville's decease, they became the property of his son, 
the late Charles Longueville, Esq. who bequeathed them, at 
his death, to John Clarke, Esq. and that this gentleman has 
been prevailed upon to part with them, and favoured me with 
an authority to insert the following certificate of their authen- 
ticity. 

" I do hereby certify, that the papers now proposed to be 
published by Mr. Thyer, are the 'original manuscripts' oi 
Mr. Samuel Butler, author of Hudxbras, and were bequeathed 
to me by the late Charles Longueville, Esq. 

Waldierton Cheshire, „ jqjj^^ CLARKE." 

Nov. 20, 1754. 



134 PREFACE. 

A]tliough, from evidence of such a nature, there cannot re- 
main the least doubt about the genuineness of this Work, and 
It be very certain that eveiy thing m it is the performance of 
Butler, yet it must be owned, at the same time, that there is 
not the same degi-ee of perfection and exactness in all the 
compositions here printed. Some are finished with the ut- 
most accuracy, and were fairly transcribed for the press, aa 
far as can be judged from outward appearance : others, thougli 
finished, and wrote with the same spirit and peculiar vein of 
humour which distinguishes him from all other writers, seem 
as if, upon a second review, he would have retouched and 
amended in some httle particulars ; and some few are left un- 
finished, or at least parts of them are lost or pei-ished. Tliis 
acknowledgment I think due to the Poet's character and 
memory, and necessary to bespeak that candid allowance 
from the reader which the Posthumous Works of every writer 
have a just claim to. 

It is, I know, a common observation, that it is doing in- 
justice to a departed genius to publish fragments, or such 
pieces as he had not given the last hand to. Without contro- 
verting the justness of tliis remark in general, one may, I 
think, venture to affirm, that it is not to be extended to cveiy 
particular case, and that a ^vriter of so extraordinary and un- 
common a turn as the author of Hudibras is not to be inclu- 
ded under it. It would be a piece of foolish fondness to pur- 
chase at a gi-eat expense, or preserve with a particular care, 
the unfinished works of every tolerable painter ; and yet it is 
esteemed a mark of fine taste, to procure, at almost any price, 
the rough sketches and half-formed designs of a Eaphael, a 
Ecmbrandt, or any celebrated master. If the elegant remains 
of a Greek or Roman statuary, though maimed and defective, 
are thought worthy of a place in the cabinets of the pohte ad- 
mirers of antiquity, and the learned world thinks itself obliged 
to laborious critics for handing down to us the half-intelligible 
scraps of an ancient classic; no reason can, I tliink, be 
assigned why a genius of more modern date should not be 
entitled to the same privilege, except we will absurdly and 
enthusiastically fancy that time gives a value to writings, as 
well as tc 'oins and medals. It may be added, also, that ag 



PREFACE. 135 

Butler is not only exceJent, but almost singular, too, in his 
manner of writing, every thing of his must acquu-e a propor- 
tionable degi-ee of value and curiosity. 

I shall not longer detain the reader from better entertain- 
ment, by indulging my own sentiments upon these ' Remains ; ' 
and shall rather choose to wait for the judgment of the Pub- 
lic, than impertinently to obtrude my own. It is enough for 
me that I have faithfully discharged the office of an Editor, 
and shall leave to future critics the pleasure of criticising and 
remarkmg, approving or condemning. The Notes which I 
have given, the reader will find to be only such as were ne- 
cessary to let him into the Author's meaning, by reciting and 
explaining some circumstances, not generally known, to which 
he alludes; and he cannot but observe that many more might 
have been added, had I given way to a fondness for scribbling, 
too common upon such occasions. 

Although my Author stands m need of no apology for the 
appearance he is gomg to make m the followmg sheets, the 
worid may probably think that the Publisher does, for not 
permitting him to do it sooner. All that I have to say, and to 
persons of candour I need to say no more, is, that the delay 
has been owing to a bad state of health, and a consequent in- 
disposition for a work of tins nature, and not to indolence, oi 
any selfish narrow views of nay own. 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

A learn'd society of late, 

The glorj of a foreign state, 

Agreed, upon a summer's night. 

To search the moon by her own light ; 

To take an invent'rj of all t 

Her real estate, and personal ; 

And make an accurate survey 

Of all her lands, and how they lay. 

As true as that of Ireland, where 

The sly surveyors stole a shire : lo 

T' observe her country, how 'twas planted, 

With what sh' abounded most, or wanted ; 

And make the proper'st observations 

For settling of new plantations. 

If the Society should incline is 

T' attempt so glorious a design. 

This was the purpose of their meeting, 
For which they chose a time as fitting, 
When, at the full, her radiant light 
And influence too were at their height. 90 

This Poem was Intended by the Author for a satu* upon 
the Royal Society, which, according to his opinion at least, 
ran too much, at that time, into the virtuoso taste, and a 
whimsical fondness for surprising and vonderful stories va 
oatural history. 



138 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

And now the lofty tube, the scale 

"With which they heav'n itself assail, 

Was mounted full against the Moon. 

And all stood ready to fall on ; 

Impatient who should have the honour ss 

To plant an ensign first upon her. 

When one, who for his deep belief 
Was virtuoso then in chief, 
Approv'd the most profound, and wise, 
To solve impossibilities, so 

Advancing gravely, to apply 
To th' optic glass his judging eye, 
Cry'd, Strange ! — then reinforc'd his sight 
Against the Moon with all his might, 
And bent his penetrating brow, u 

As if he meant to gaze her through ; 
When all the rest began t' admire. 
And, like a train, from him took fire, 
Surpris'd with wonder, beforehand. 
At what they did not understand, 40 

Cry'd out, impatient to know what 
The matter was they wonder'd at. 

Quoth he, Th' inhabitants o' th' Moon, 
Who, when the sun shines hot at noon. 
Do Hve in cellars under ground, 45 

Of eight miles deep and eighty round 
(In which at once they fortify 
Against the sun and th' enemy). 
Which they count towns and cities there, 
Because their people 's ci viler m 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 139 

Than those rude peasants that are found 

To live upon the upper ground, 

Call'd Privolvans, with whom they are 

Perpetually in open war ; 

And now both armies, highly' enrag'd, u 

Are in a bloody fight engag'd. 

And many fall on both sides slain, 

As by the glass 'tis clear and plain. 

Look quickly then, that every one 

May see the fight before 'tis done. 00 

With that a great philosopher, 
Admir'd, and famous far and near, 
As one of singular invention. 
But universal comprehension, 
Apply'd one eye, and half a nose, w 

Unto the optic engine close : 
For he had lately undertook 
To prove, and publish in a book. 
That men, whose nat'ral eyes are out, 
May, by more pow'rful art, be brought •»« 

To see with th' empty holes, as plain 
As if their eyes were in again ; 
And if they chanc'd to fail of those, 
To make an optic of a nose, 

As clearly' it may, by those that wear 75 

But spectacles, be made appear. 
By which both senses being united, 
Does rend'^r them much better sighted. 
This great man, having fixt both sights 
To view the formidable fights, M 



14:0 THE ELEPHAJ^T IN THE MOON. 

Observ'd his best, and then crj'd out, 

The battle 's desperately fought ; 

The gallant Subvolvani rallj, 

And from their trenches make a sally 

Upon the stubborn enemy, st 

Who now begin to rout and fly. 

These silly ranting Privolvans, 
Have every summer their campaigns, 
And muster, like the warlike sons 
Of Raw-head and of Bloody-bones, so 

As numerous as Soland geese 
r th' islands of the Orcades, 
Courageously to make a stand, 
A^nd face their neighbours hand to hand, 
Until the long'd-for winter 's come, w 

And then return in triumph home. 
And spend the rest o' th' year in lies. 
And vap'ring of their victories. 
From th' old Arcadians they 're believ'd 
To be, before the Moon, deriv'd, loo 

And, when her orb was new created, 
To people her were thence translated : 
For as th' Arcadians were reputed 
Of all the Grecians the most stupid. 
Whom nothing in the world could bring lee 

To civil life but fiddling. 
They still retain the antique course 
And custom of their ancestors. 
And always sing and fiddle to 
Things of the gieatest weight they do. no 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 141 

While thus the leam'd man entertains 
rh* assembly with the Privolvans, 
Another, of as great renown, 
And soUd judgment, in the Moon, 
That understood her various soils, iii 

And which produc'd best genet-moyles, 
And in the register of fame 
Had enter'd his long-living name, 
After he had por'd long and hard 
T' th' engine, gave a start, and star'd • — 13C 

Quoth he, A stranger sight appears 
Than e'er was seen in all the spheres ! 
A wonder more unparallel'd. 
Than ever mortal tube beheld ; 
An elephant from one of those lu 

Two mighty armies is broke loose, 
And with the horror of the fight 
Appears amaz'd, and in a fright : 
Look quickly, lest the sight of us 
Should cause the startled beast t' imboss. iso 

It is a large one, far more great 
Than e'er was bred in Afric yet. 
From which we boldly may infer 
The Moon is much the fruitfuller 
And since the mighty Pyrrhus brought isf 

Those living castles first, 'tis thought, 
Against the Romans, in the field, 
It may an argument be held 
(Arcadia being but a piece, 
4s his dominions were, of Greece) uc 



142 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

To prove what this illustrious person 

Has made so noble a discourse on, 

And amply satisfy'd us all 

Of th' Privolvans' original. 

That Elephants are in the Moon, us 

Though we had now discover'd none, 

Is easily made manifest, 

Since, from the greatest to the least, 

All other stars and constellations 

Have cattle of all sorts of nations, ibo 

And heaven, like a Tartar's hoard, 

With great and numerous droves is stor'd : 

And if the Moon produce by Nature 

A people of so vast a stature, 

*Tis consequent she should bring forth isa 

Far greater beasts, too, than the earth 

(As by the best accounts appears 

Of all our great'st discoverers). 

And that those monstrous creatures there 

Are not such rarities as here. loo 

Meanwhile the rest had had a sight 
Of all particulars o' th' fight, 
And every man, with equal care, 
Perus'd of th' Elephant his share. 
Proud of his int'rest in the glory i66 

Of so miraculous a story ; 
When one, who for his excellence 
In height'ning words, and shad'wing sense. 
And magnifying all he writ 
With curious microscopic wit, vjn 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 143 

Was magnifj'd himself no less 
In home and foreign colleges, 
Began, transported with the twang 
Of his own trillo, thus t' harangue. 

Most excellent and virtuous Friends, m 

This great disco v'rj makes amends 
For all our unsuccessful pains. 
And lost expense of time and brains : 
For bj this sole phenomenon 
We 'ave gotten ground upon the Moon, ig| 

And gain'd a pass to hold dispute 
With all the planets that stand out ; 
To carrj this most virtuous war 
Home to the door of every star, 
And plant th' artillery of our tubes lu 

Against their proudest magnitudes ; 
To stretch our victories beyond 
Th' extent of planetary ground. 
And fix our engines, and our ensigns, 
Upon the fixt stars' vast dimensions iso 

(Which Archimede, so long ago. 
Durst not presume to wish to do), 
And prove if they are other suns. 
As some have held opinions. 
Or windows in the empyreum, I9i 

From whence those bright effluvias come 
Like flames of fire (as others guess) 
That shine i' th' mouths of furnaces. 
N"or is this all we have achiev'd. 
But more, henceforth to be believ'd, 900 



144 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

And have no more our best designs, 

Because they 're ours, believ'd ill signs. 

T* out-throw, and stretch, and to enlarge, 

Shall now no more be laid t' our charge ; 

Nor shall our ablest virtuosoes 2ua 

Prove arguments for coffee-houses ; 

Nor those devices that are laid 

Too truly on us, nor those made. 

Hereafter gain belief among 

Our strictest judges, right or wrong ; ^lo 

Nor shall our past misfortunes more 

Be charged upon the ancient score ; 

No more our making old dogs young 

Make men suspect us still i' th' wrong ; 

Nor new-invented chariots draw sis 

The boys to course us without law ; 

Nor putting pigs t' a bitch to nurse. 

To turn them into mongrel-curs. 

Make them suspect our sculls are brittle, 

And hold too much wit or too little ; j20 

Nor shall our speculations, whether 

An elder-stick will save the leather 

Of school-boys' breeches from the rod, 

Make all we do appear as odd. 

This one discovery 's enough a2s 

To take all former scandals off — 

But since the world 's incredulous 

Of all our scrutinies, and us. 

And with a prejudice prevents 

Our best and worst experiments 3m 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 115 

(As if tliej' were destin'd to miscarry. 

In consort trj'd, or solitary), 

And since it is uncertain when 

Such wonders will occur agen, 

Let us as cautiously contrive ass 

To draw an exact Narrative 

Of what we every one can swear 

Our eyes themselves have seen appear, 

That, when we publish the Account, 

"We all may take our oaths upon 't. 240 

This said, they all with one consent 
Agreed to draw up th' Instrument, 
And, for the general satisfaction. 
To print it in the next Transaction. 
But whilst the chiefs were drawing up 24ft 

This strange Memoir o' th' telescope, 
One, peeping in the tube by chance, 
Beheld the Elephant advance, 
And from the west side of the Moon 
To th' east was in a moment gone. 96O 

This being related, gave a stop 
To what the rest were drawing up ; 
And every man, amazed anew 
How it could possibly be true. 
That any beast should run a race ase 

So monstrous, in so short a space, 
Resolv'd, howe'er, to make it good. 
At least as possible as he could. 
Aid rather his own eyes condemn, 
Vhan question what he 'ad seen with them. 26O 

VOL. II. 10 



146 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

While all were thus resolv'd, a man 
Of great renown there thus began — 
'Tis strange, I grant ! but who can say 
What cannot be, what can, and may ? 
Especially at so hugely vast 269 

A distance as this wonder 's plac'd, 
Wliere the least error of the sight 
May shew things false, but never right ; 
Nor can we try them, so far off, 
By any sublunary proof: no 

For who can say that Nature there 
Has the same laws she goes by here ? 
Nor is it hke she has infus'd. 
In every species there produc'd, 
The same efforts she does confer 375 

Upon the same productions here ; 
Since those with us, of several nations, 
Have such prodigious variations, 
Ajid she affects so much to use 
Variety in all she does. 28O 

Hence may b' inferr'd that, though I grant 
We 'ave seen i' th' Moon an Elephant, 
That Elephant may differ so 
From those upon the earth below- 
Both in his bulk, and force, and speed, 935 

As being of a different breed. 
That though our own are but slow-pac'd, 
Theirs there may fly, or run as fast. 
And yet be Elephants, no less 
Than those of Indian pedigrees. 200 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE ?.IOON. 147 

This said, another of great worth, 
Fam'd for his learned works put forth, 
Look'd wise, then said — All this is true, 
And learnedly observ'd by you ; 
But there 's another reason for 't, 9W 

That falls but very little short 
Of mathematic demonstration, 
Upon an accurate calculation. 
And that is — As the earth and moon 
Do both move contrary upon soo 

Their axes, the rapidity 
Of both their motions cannot be 
But so prodigiously fast. 
That vaster spaces may be past 
In less time than the beast has gone, aoi 

Though he 'ad no motion of his own. 
Which we can take no measure of, 
As you have clear'd by learned proof. 
This granted, we may boldly thence 
Lay claim t' a nobler inference, sio 

And make this great phenomenon 
(Were there no other) serve alone 
To clear the grand hypothesis 
Of th' motion of the earth from this. 

With this they all were satisfy'd, ti5 

As men are wont o' th' bias'd side, 
Applauded the profound dispute, 
And grew more gay and resolute, 
By having overcome all doubt. 
Than if it never had fall'n out ; sac 



148 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

And, to complete their Narrative, 
Agi'eed t' insert this strange retrieve. 

But while they were diverted all 
"With wording the Memorial, 
The foot-boys, for diversion too, sas 

As having nothing else to do. 
Seeing the telescope at leisure, 
Turn'd virtuosoes for their pleasure ; 
Began to gaze upon the Moon, 
As those they waited on had done. sac 

With monkeys' ingenuity. 
That love to practise what they see ; 
When one, whose turn it was to peep, 
Saw something in the engine creep, 
And, viewing well, discover'd more ase 

Than all the learn'd had done before. 
Quoth he, A little thing is slunk 
Into the long star-gazing trunk. 
And now is gotten down so nigh, 
I have him just against mine eye. un 

This being overheard by one 
Who was not so far overgrown 
In any virtuous speculation, 
To judge with mere imagination. 
Immediately he made a guess 846 

At solving all appearances, 
A way far more significant 
Than all their hints of th' Elephant, 
And found, upon a second view. 
His own hypothesis most true ; bm 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 149 

I'ui he had scarce apply'd his eye 

To th' engine, but immediately 

He found a mouse was gotten in 

The hollow tube, and, shut between 

The two glass windows in restraint, ssft 

Was swell'd into an Elephant, 

And prov'd the virtuous occasion 

Of all this learned dissertation : 

And, as a mountain heretofore 

Was great with child, they say, and bore seo 

A silly mouse ; this mouse, as strange, 

Brought forth a mountain in exchange. 

Meanwhile the rest in consultation 
Had penn'd the wonderful Narration, 
And set their hands, and seals, and wit, .u 

T' attest the truth of what they 'ad writ 
When this accurs'd phenomenca 
Confounded all they 'ad said oi done : 
For 'twas no sooner hinted at. 
But they' all were in a tumult .'.trait, «».' 

More furiously enrag'd by far, 
I'han those that in the Moon made wsu-, 
To find so admirable a hint, 
When they had all agreed t' have seen \ 
And were engag'd to make it out, « 

"Obstructed with a paltry doubt : 
When one, whose task was to determine 
And solve th' appearances of vermin. 
Who 'ad made profound discoveries 
Tn frogs, and toads, and rats, and mice S8i> 



150 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

(Thoiigli not so curious, 'tis true, 
As many a wise rat-catcher knew), 
After he had with signs made way 
For something great he had to say ; 

* This disquisition sm 

Is, half of it, in my * discission ; 
For though the Elephant, as beast, 
Belongs of right to all the rest. 
The mouse, being but a vermin, none 
Has title to but I alone ; 390 

And therefore hope I may be heard, 
In my own province, with regard. 

It is no wonder we 're cry'd down, 
And made the talk of all the Town, 
That rants and swears, for all our great ks 

Attempts, we have done nothing yet. 
If every one have leave to doubt. 
When some great secret 's half made out ; 
And, 'cause perhaps it is not true, 
Obstruct, and ruin all we do. 400 

As no great act was ever done. 
Nor ever can, with truth alone, 
If nothing else but truth w' allow, 
'Tis no great matter what we do : 
For truth is too reserv'd, and nice, 401 

T' appear in mix'd societies ; 
Delights in solitary abodes. 
And never shows herself in crowds ; 

* Sic Orig. 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 151 

A sullen little thing, below- 
All matters of pretence and show ; 4i€ 
That deal in novelty and change, 
Not of things true, but rare and strange, 
To treat the world with what is fit 
And proper to its natural wit : 
The world, that never sets esteem 419 
On what things are, but what they seem, 
And, if they be not strange and new, 
They 're ne'er the better for being true ; 
For what has mankind gain'd by knowing 
His little truth, but his undoing, 4S0 
Which wisely was by Nature hidden, 
And only for his good forbidden ? 
And therefore with great prudence does 
The world still strive to keep it close; 
For if all secret truths were known, 436 
Who would not be once more undone ? 
For truth has always danger in 't, 
And here, perhaps, may cross some hint 
We have already agreed uj)on, 
And may vainly frustrate all we 'ave done, 4S0 
Only to make new work for Stubs, 
And all the academic clubs. 
How much, then, ought we have a care 
That no man know above his share. 
Nor dare to understand; henc iforth, 4se 
More than his contribution 's worth ; 
That those who 'ave purchas'd of the coUege 
A share, or half a share, of knowledge. 



152 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

And brought in none, but spent repute, 

Should not b' admitted to dispute, 44a 

Nor any man pretend to know 

More than his dividend comes to ? 

For partners have been always known 

To cheat their public interest prone ; 

And if we do not look to ours, 44J 

'Tis sure to run the self-same course. 

This said, the whole assembly allow'd 
The doctrine to be right and good. 
And, from the truth of what they 'ad heard 
Resolv'd to give Truth no regard, 46C 

But what was for their turn to vouch, 
And either find or make it such : 
That 'twas more noble to create 
Things like Truth, out of strong conceit, 
Than with vexations, pains, and doubt, 459 

To find, or think t' have found, her out. 

This being resolv'd, they, one by one, 
Review'd the tube, the Mouse, and Moon ; 
But still the narrower they pry'd. 
The more they were unsatisfy'd, 46O 

In no one thing they saw agreeing, 
4s if they 'ad several faiths of seeing. 
Some swore, upon a second view. 
That all they 'ad seen before was true ; 
And that they never would recant 46« 

One syllable of th' Elephant ; 
Avow'd his snout could be no Mouse's, 
But a true Elephant's proboscis. 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 158 

Others began to doubt and waver, 

Uncertain which o' th' two to favour, 470 

And knew not whether to espouse 

The cause of th' Elephant or Mouse. 

Some held no way so orthodox 

To try it, as the ballot-box, 

And, like the nation's patriots, 47S 

To find, or make, the truth by votes : 

Others conceiv'd it much more fit 

T' unmount the tube, and open it, 

And, for their private satisfaction, 

To re-examine the Transaction, 480 

And after explicate the rest. 

As they should find cause for the best. 

To this, as th' only expedient. 
The whole assembly gave consent. 
But, ere the tube was half let down, . 485 

It clear'd the first phenomenon : 
For, at the end, prodigious swarms 
Of flies and gnats, like men in arms. 
Had all past muster, by mischance. 
Both for the Sub- and Privolvans. 4tf) 

This being discover'd, put them all 
Into a fresh and fiercer brawl, 
Asham'd that men so grave and wise 
Should be chaldes'd by gnats and flies, 
And take the feeble insects' swarms 49o 

For mighty troops of men at arms ; 
As vain as those who, when the Moon 
Bright in a crystal river shone, 



154 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

Threw casting nets as subtly at her, 

To catch and pull her out o' th' water. ^av 

But when they had unscrew'd the glass, 
To find out where th' impostor was, 
And saw the Mouse, that, by mishap, 
Had made the telescope a trap, 
Amaz'd, confounded, and afl3icted, aoa 

To be so openly convicted, 
Immediately they get them gone, 
With this discovery alone : 
That those who greedily pursue 
Things wonderful instead of true ; eio 

That in their speculations choose 
To make discoveries strange news ; 
And natural history a Gazette 
Of tales stupendous and far-fet ; 
Hold no truth worthy to be known, . nt 

That is not huge and over-grown. 
And explicate appearances. 
Not as they are, but as they please ; 
In vain strive Nature to suborn. 
And, fov their pains, are paid with scorn. sjc 



155 

THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON 
IN LONG VERSE.* 

A VIRTUOUS, learn'd Society, of late 

The pride and glory of a foreign state. 

Made an agreement, on a summer's night, 

To search the Moon at full by her own light; 

To take a perfect inventory of all a 

Her real fortunes, or her personal. 

And make a geometrical survey 

Of all her lands, and how her country lay, 

As accurate as that of Ireland, where 

The sly surveyor 's said t' have sunk a shire : ic 

T' observe her country's climate, how 'twas planted, 

And what she most abounded with, or wanted ; 

And draw maps of her properest situations 

* After the author had finished his story in short verse, he 
took it into his head to attempt it in long. That this was 
composed after the other, is manifest from its being wrote 
opposite to it upon a vacant part of the same paper; and 
though in most places tlie Poet has done Httle more than fill 
up the verse with an additional foot, preserving the same 
thought and rhyme, yet as it is a singular mstance in its way, 
and has, besides, many considerable additions and variations, 
which tend to illustrate and explain the preceding Poem, it 
may b8 looked upon not only as a curiosity in its kind, but as 
a new production . of the Author's. This I mention only to 
obviate the objections of those who may think it inserted to 
fill up the volume. To the admirers of Butler, I am sure, no 
apology is necessary. 



156 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

For settling and erecting new plantations, 

If ever the Society should incline i» 

T' attempt so great and glorious a design : 

" A task in vain, unless the German Kepler 

Had found out a discovery to people her, 

And stock her country with inhabitants 

Of military men and Elephants : -io 

For th' Ancients only took her for a piece 

Of red-hot iron as big as Peloponnese, 

Till he appear'd ; for which, some write, she sent 

Upon his tribe as strange a punishment." 

This was the only purpose of their meeting, 25 
For which they chose a time and place most fitting, 
When, at the full, her equal shares of light 
And influence were at their greatest height. 
And now the lofty telescope, the scale. 
By which they venture heav'n itself t' assail, 30 
Was rais'd, and planted full against the Moon, 
And all the rest stood ready to fall on. 
Impatient who should bear away the honour 
To plant an ensign, first of all, upon her. 

When one, who for his solid deep belief sa 

Was chosen virtuoso then in chief. 
Had been approv'd the most profound and wise 
At solving all impossibilities. 
With gravity advancing, to apply 
To th' optic glass his penetrating eye, 46 

V. 17. This and the following verses, to the end of the 
paragraph, are not in the foregoing composition ; and are dis- 
tinguished, as well as the rest of the same kind, by being 
printed with inverted commas. 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 157 

Cry'd out, strange ! then reinforc'd his sight 
Against the Moon with all his art and might, 
And bent the muscles of his pensive brow, 
As if he meant to stare and gaze her through ; 
"While all the rest began as much t' admire, 43 
And, like a powder-train, from him took fire, 
Surpris'd with dull amazement before-hand, 
At what they would, but could not understand, 
And grew impatient to discover what 
The matter was they so much wonder'd at. 50 

Quoth he, The old inhabitants o' th' Moon, 
Who, when the sun shines hottest about noon, 
Are wont to live in cellars under ground. 
Of eight miles deep, and more than eighty round, 
In which at once they use to fortify &$ 

Against the sun-beams and the enemy, 
Are counted borough-towns and cities there, 
Because th' inhabitants are civiler 
Than those rude country peasants that are found, 
Like mountaineers, to live on th' upper ground, eo 
Nam'd Privolvans, with whom the others are 
Perpetually in state of open war. 
And now both armies, mortally enrag'd. 
Are in a fierce and bloody fight engag'd. 
And many fall on both sides kill'd and slain, ea 
As by the telescope 'tis clear and plain. 
Look in it quickly then, that every one 
May see his share before the battle 's done. 

At this a famous great philosopher, 
Admir'd, and celebrated, far and near, 



lo8 THE ELEPrixVNT IN THE MOON. 

As one of wondrous, singular invention, 

And equal universal comprehension ; 

" Bj which he had compos'd a pedler's jargon, 

For all the world to learn, and use in bargain. 

An universal canting idiom, " 

To understand the swinging pendulum, 

And to communicate, in all designs. 

With th' Eastern virtuosi Mandarines ; " 

Apply 'd an optic nerve, and half a nose, 

To th' end and centre of the engine close : so 

For he had very lately undertook 

To vindicate, and publish in a book. 

That men, whose native eyes are blind, or out, 

May by more admirable art be brought 

To see with empty holes, as well and plain 86 

As if their eyes had been put in again. 

This great man, therefore, having fix'd his sight 

T' observe the bloody formidable fight, 

Consider'd carefully, and then cry'd out, 

*Tis true, the battle 's desperately fought ; 90 

The gallant Subvolvans begin to rally. 

And from their trenches valiantly sally, 

To fall upon the stubborn enemy, 

Who fearfully begin to rout and fly. 

These paltry domineering Privolvans 95 

Have, every summer-season, their campaigns, 
And muster, like the military sons 
Of Raw-head and victorious Bloody-bones, 
As great and numerous as Soland geese 
r th* summer-islands of the Orcades, 100 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. lo9 

Courageouslj to make a dreadful stand, 

And boldly face their neighbours hand to hand, 

Until the peaceful, long'd-for winter 's come, 

And then disband, and march in triumph home, 

And spend the rest of all the year in lies, lo.* 

And vap'ring of their unknown victories. 

From th' old Arcadians they have been believ'd 

To be, before the Moon herself, deriv'd ; 

And, when her orb was first of all created. 

To be from thence, to people her, translated : no 

For, as those people had been long reputed, 

Of all the Peloponnesians, the most stupid, 

Whom nothing in the world could ever bring 

T' endure the civil life but fiddHng, 

They ever since retain the antique course, iis 

And native frenzy of their ancestors. 

And always use to sing and fiddle to 

Things of the most important weight they do. 

While thus the virtuoso entertains 
The whole assembly with the Privolvans, 130 

*' Another sophist, but of less renown. 
Though longer observation of the Moon," 
That understood the diff'rence of her soils. 
And which produc'd the fiiirest genet-moyles, 
" But for an unpaid weekly shilling's pension 125 
Had fin'd for wit, and judgment, and invention," 

V. liW, 126. The poet hnd added the two following lines 
in tnis character, but afterwards ci'ossed them out : 

And first found out the building Paul's, 
And paving London with sea-coals. 



160 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

Who, after poring tedious and hard 

In th' optic engine, gave a start, and star'd, 

And thus began — A stranger sight appears 

Than ever yet was seen in all the spheres ! i3j 

A greater wonder, more unparallel'd 

Than ever mortal tube or eye beheld ; 

A mighty Elephant from one of those 

Two fighting armies is at length broke loose, 

And, with the desp'rate horror of the fight isi 

Appears amaz'd, and in a dreadful fright ! 

Look quickly, lest the only sight of us 

Should cause the startled creature to imboss. 

It is a large one, and appears more great 

Than ever was produc'd in Afric yet ; i40 

From which we confidently may infer, 

The Moon appears to be the fruitfuUer. 

And since, of old, the mighty Pyrrhus brought 

Those living castles first of all, 'tis thought, 

Against the Roman army in the field, 145 

It may a valid argument be held 

(The same Arcadia being but a piece, 

As his dominions were, of antique Greece) 

To vindicate what this illustrious person 

Has made so learn'd and noble a discourse on, i§ . 

^Lud giv'n us ample satisfaci i ;n all 

Of th' ancient Privolvans' (;n2:inal. 

That Elephants are really in the Moon, 
Although our fortune had discover'd none, 
Is easily made plain and manifest, is 

Since from the greatest orbs, down to the least. 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 161 

All other globes of stars and constellations 
Have cattle in 'em of all sorts and nations, 
And heaven, like a northern Tartar's hoard, 
With numerous and mighty droves is stor'd : ico 
And if the moon can but produce by Nature 
A people of so large and vast a stature, 
'Tis more than probable she should bring forth 
A greater breed of beasts, too, than the earth ; 
As by the best accounts we have, appears i6a 

Of all our crediblest discoverers. 
And that those vast and monstrous creatures there 
Ai'e not such far-fet rarities as here. 

Meanwhile th' assembly now had had a sight 
Of all distinct particulars o' th' fight, no 

And every man, with diligence and care, 
Perus'd and view'd of th' Elephant his share, 
Proud of his equal int'rest in the glory 
Of so stupendous and renown'd a story ; 
When one, who for his fame and excellence, 175 
In heightening of words and shadowing sense, 
And magnifying all he ever writ 
With delicate and microscopic wit, 
Had long been magnify 'd himself no less 
In foreign and domestic colleges, iso 

Began at last (transported with the twang 
Of his own elocution) thus t' harangue. 

Most virtuous and incomparable Friends, 
This great discovery fully makes amends 
For all our former unsuccessful pains, 105 

And lost expenses of our time and brains ; 
VOL. II. 11 



162 THE ELErU^VKT LN THE MOON. 

For by this admirable phenomenon, 

We now have gotten ground upon the Moon, 

And gain'd a pass t' engage and hold dispute 

With all the other planets that stand out, i a 

And carry on this brave and virtuous war 

Plome to the door of th' obstinatest star, 

And plant th' artiUery of our optic tubes 

Against the proudest of their magnitudes ; 

To stretch our future victories beyond i3f 

The uttermost of planetary ground, 

And plant our warhke engines, and our ensigns, 

Upon the fix'd stars' spacious dimensions, 

To prove if they are other suns or not. 

As some philosophers have wisely thought, 200 

Or only windows in the empyreum, 

Through which those bright effluvias use to come ; 

Which Archimede, so many years ago, 

Durst never venture but to wish to know. 

Nor is this all that we have now achiev'd, 205 

But greater things ! — henceforth to be believ'd ; 

And have no more our best or worst designs, 

Because they 're ours, suspected for ill signs. 

T' out-throw, and magnify, and to enlarge, 

Shall, henceforth, be no more laid to our charge ; 

Nor shall our best and ablest virtuosoes 

Prove arguments again for coffee-houses ; 

" Nor little stories gain belief among 

Our criticallest judges, right or wrong : " 

Nor sliall our new-invented chariots draw 214 

The boys to course us in 'em without law ; 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 163 

* Make chips of elms produce the largest trees, 

Or sowing saw-dust furnish nurseries : 

No more our heading darts (a swinging one !) 

With butter only harden'd in the sun ; 220 

Or men that use to whistle loud enough 

To be heard by others plainly five miles off, 

Cause all the rest we own and have avow'd. 

To be behev'd as desperately loud." 

Nor shall our future speculations, whether 225 

An elder-stick will render all the leather 

Of school-boys' breeches proof against the rod, 

Make all we undertake appear as odd. 

This one discovery will prove enough 

To take all past and future scandals off: 330 

But since the w^orld is so incredulous 

Of all our usual scrutinies and us, 

And with a constant prejudice prevents 

Our best as well as worst experiments, 

As if they were all destin'd to miscarry, 285 

As well in concert try'd as solitary ; 

And that th' assembly is uncertain when 

Such great discoveries will occur agen, 

Tis reasonable we should, at least, contrive 

To draw up as exact a Narrative 246 

Of that which every man of us can swear 

Our eyes themselves have plainly seen appear. 

That when 'tis fit to publish the Account 

We all may take our several oaths upon 't. 

This said, the Avhole assembly gave consent 24« 
To drawing up th' authentic Inst-ument, 



164 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

And, for the nation's gen'ral satisfaction, 

To print and own it in their next Transaction : 

But while their ablest men were drawing up 

The wonderful memoir o' th' telescope, 25c 

A member peeping in the tube by chance, 

Beheld the Elephant begin t' advance, 

That from the west-by-north side of the Moon 

To th' east-by-south was in a moment gone. 

This being related, gave a sudden stop p.aa 

To all their grandees had been drawing up, 

And every person was amaz'd anew. 

How such a strange surprisal should be true, 

Or any beast perform so great a race. 

So swift and rapid, in so short a space, 260 

Resolv'd, as suddenly, to make it good, 

Or render all as fairly as they cou'd. 

And rather chose their own eyes to condemn, 

Than question what they had beheld with them. 

While every one was thus resolv'd, a man sea 
Of great esteem and credit thus began — 
'Tis strange, I grant ! but who, alas ! can say 
What cannot be, or justly can, and may ? 
Especially at so hugely wide and vast 
A distance as this miracle is plac'd, 27c 

Where the least error of the glass, or sight, 
May render things amiss, but never right ? 
yor can we try them, when they 're so far off, 
By an equal sublunary proof: 
For who can justify that Nature there 27/ 

Is ty'd to the same laws she acts by here ? 



THE ELIPHANT TN THE MOON. I6ii 

!N'or is it probable she has infus'd 

Int' ev'iy species in the Moon produc'd, 

The same efforts she uses to confer 

Upon the very same productions here, -jso 

Since those upon the earth, of several nations, 

Are found t' have such prodigious variations. 

And she affects so constantly to use 

Variety in every thing she does. 

From hence may be inferr'd that, though I grant 

We have beheld i' th' Moon an Elephant, 

That Elephant may chance to differ so 

From those with us upon the earth below, 

Both in his bulk, as well as force and speed. 

As being of a different kind and breed, 290 

That though, 'tis true, our own are but slow-pac'd. 

Theirs there, perhaps, may fly, or run as fast, 

And yet be very Elephants, no less 

Than those deriv'd from Indian families. 

This said, another member of great worth, 295 
Fam'd for the learned works he had put forth, 
" Li which the mannerly and modest author 
Quotes the Right Worshipful his elder brother," 
Look'd wise awhile, then said — All this is true, 
And very learnedly observ'd by you ; 300 

But there 's another nobler reason for 't. 
That, rightly observ'd, will fall but httle short 
Of solid mathematic demonstration. 
Upon a fall and perfect calculation ; 
And that is only this — As th' earth ?)nd moon 30s 
Oo constantly move contrary upon 



166 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON 

Their several axes, the rapidity 

Of both their motions cannot fail to be 

So violent, and naturally fast, 

That larger distances may well be past sio 

In less time than the Elephant has gone, 

Although he had no motion of his own, 

Which we on earth can take no measure of, 

As you have made it evident by proof. 

This granted, we may confidently hence sia 

Claim title to another inference, 

And make this wonderful phenomenon 

(Were there no other) serve our turn alone 

To vindicate the grand hypothesis. 

And prove the motion of the earth from this. 320 

This said, th' assembly now was satisfy'd, 
As men are soon upon the bias'd side ; 
With great applause receiv'd th' admir'd dispute, 
And grew more gay, and brisk, and resolute, 
By having (right or wrong) remov'd all doubt, 325 
Than if th' occasion never had fall'n out ; 
Resolving to complete their Narrative, 
And punctually insert this strange retrieve. 

But while their grandees were diverted all 
With nicely wording the Memorial, 330 

The foot-boys, for their own diversion, too, 
As having nothing now at all to do. 
And when they saw the telescope at leisure, 
Turn'd virtuosoes, only for their pleasure ; 
" With drills' and monkeys' ingenuity, S3» 

That take delight to practise all they see," 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 1 ••7 

Began to stare and gaze upon the Moon, 
As those they waited on before had done : 
When one, whose turn it was by chance to peep. 
Saw something in the lofty engine creep, 3-^ 

And, viewing carefully, discover'd more 
Than all their masters hit upon before. 
Quoth he, strange ! a little thing is slunk 
On th' inside of the long star-gazing trunk, 
And now is gotten down so low and nigh, 845 

I have him here directly 'gainst mine eye. 

This chancing to be overheard by one 
Who was not, yet, so hugely overgrown 
In any philosophic observation. 
As to conclude with mere imagination, SM 

And yet he made immediately a guess 
At fully solving all appearances 
A plainer way, and more significant 
Than all their hints had prov'd o' th' Elephant, 
And quickly found, upon a second view, 35s 

His own conjecture, probably, most true ; 
For he no sooner had apply'd his eye 
To th' optic engine, but immediately 
He found a small field-mouse was gotten in 
The hollow telescope, and, shut between S60 

The two glass windows, closely in restraint, 
Was magnify'd into an Elephant, 
And prov'd the happy virtuous occasion 
Of all this deep and learned dissertation. 
And as a mighty mountain, heretofore, as 

ts said t' have been begot with child, and bore 



168 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

A silly mouse, this captive mouse, us strange, 
Produc'd another mountain in exchange. 

Meanwhile the grandees, long in consultation, 
Had finish'd the miraculous Narration, 37c 

And set their hands, and seals, and sense, and wit, 
T' attest and vouch the truth of all they 'd writ, 
When this unfortunate phenomenon 
Confounded all they had declar'd and done : 
For 'twas no sooner told and hinted at, 37s 

But all the rest were in a tumult strait, 
More hot and furiously enrag'd by far 
Than both the hosts that in the Moon made war, 
To find so rare and admirable a hint, 
When they had all agreed and sworn t' haVe seen 't, 
And had engag'd themselves to make it out, 
Obstructed with a wretched paltry doubt. 
When one, whose only task was to determine 
And solve the worst appearances of vermin, 
Who oft had made profound discoveries 38£ 

In frogs and toads, as well as rats and mice 
(Though not so curious and exact, 'tis true, 
As many an exquisite rat-catcher knew), 
After he had awhile with signs made way 
For something pertinent he had to say, 39c 

At last prevail'd — Quoth he, This disquisition 
Is, the one half of it, in my discission ; 
For though 'tis true the Elephant, as beast, 
Belongs, of nat'ral right, to all the rest. 
The mouse, that 's but a paltry vermin, none 89 
Can claim a title to but I alone ; 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 169 

A.nd therefore humbly hope I may be heard, 
In mj own province, freely, with regard. 

It is no wonder that we are cry'd down, 
And made the table-talk of all the town, 400 

That rants and vapours still, for all our great 
Designs and projects, we Ve done nothing yet, 
If every one had liberty to doubt. 
When some great secret 's more than half made out, 
Because, perhaps, it will not hold out true, 405 
And put a stop to all w' attempt to do. 
As no great action ever has been done, 
Nor ever 's like to be, by Truth alone, 
If nothing else but only truth w' allow, 
'Tis no great matter what w' intend to do ; 410 
" For Truth is always too reserv'd and chaste, 
T' endure to be by all the Town embrac'd ; 
A solitary anchorite, that dwells 
Retir'd from all the world, in obscure cells," 
Disdains all great assemblies, and defies 416 

The press and crowd of mix'd societies. 
That use to deal in novelty and change. 
Not of things true, but great, and rare, and strange, 
To entertain the world with what is fit 
And proper for its genius and its wit ; 420 

The world, that 's never found to set esteem 
On what things are, but what th' appear and seem : 
And if they are not wonderful and new. 
They 're ne'er the better for their being true. 
« For what is truth, or knowledge, but a kind i-2a 
Of wantonness and luxury o' th' mind, 



170 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

A greediness and gluttony o' th' brain, 

That longs to eat forbidden fruit again, 

And grows more desp'rate, like the worst diseases, 

Upon the nobler part (the mind) it seizes ? " 43fl 

And what has mankind ever gain'd by knowing 

His little truths, unless his own undoing, 

That prudently by Nature had been hidden. 

And, only for his greater good, forbidden. 

And therefore with as great discretion does 435 

The world endeavour still to keep it close ; 

For if the secrets of all truths were known, 

Who would not, once more, be as much undone ? 

For truth is never without danger in 't. 

As here it has depriv'd us of a hint 440 

The whole assembly had agreed upon. 

And utterly defeated all we 'ad done, 

" By giving foot-boys leave to interpose, 

And disappoint whatever we propose ; " 

For nothing but to cut out work for Stubs, 449 

And all the busy academic clubs, 

" For which they have deserv'd to run the risks 

Of elder-sticks, and penitential frisks." 

How much, then, ought we have a special care 

That none presume to know above his share, 450 

Nor take upon him t' understand, henceforth. 

More than his weekly contribution 's worth. 

That all those that have purchas'd of the college 

A half, or but a quarter, share of knowledge, 

And brought none in themselves but spent reputp. 

Should never be admitted to dispute, 



THE KLKl'HANT IN THE MOON. 171 

Nor any member undertake to know- 
More than his equal dividend comes to ? 
For partners have perpetually been known 
T' impose upon their public int'rest prone ; 460 
And if we have not greater care of ours, 
It will be sure to run the selfTsame course. 

This said, the whole Society allow'd 
The doctrine to be orthodox and good. 
And from th' apparent truth of what they 'ad heard, 
Resolv'd, henceforth, to give Truth no regard. 
But wdiat was for their interests to vouch, 
And either find it out, or make it such : 
That 'twas more admirable to create 
Inventions, like truth, out of strong conceit, 4ro 
Than with vexatious study, pains, and doubt, 
To find, or but suppose t' have found, it out. 

This being resolv'd, th' assembly, one by one, 
Eeview'd the tube, the Elephant, and Moon ; 
But still the more and curiouser they pry'd, 475 
They but became the more unsatisfy'd ; 
In no one thing they gaz'd upon agreeing. 
As if they 'ad different principles of seeing. 
Some boldly swore, upon a second view. 
That all they had beheld before was true, 48o 

And damn'd themselves they never would recant 
One syllable they 'ad seen of th' Elephant ; 
Avow^'d his shape and snout could be no Mouse's, 
But a true nat'ral Elephant's proboscis. 
Others began to doubt as much, and waver, 435 
Uncertain w^hich to disallow or favour ; 



172 THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 

" Until they had as many cross resolves, 

As Irishmen that have been turn'd to wolves," 

And grew distracted, whether to espouse 

The party of the Elephant or Mouse. 4ng 

Some held there was no way so orthodox, 

As to refer it to the ballot-box, 

And, like some other nation's patriots. 

To find it out, or make the truth, by votes : 

Others were of opinion 'twas more fit 493 

T' unmount the telescope, and open it. 

And, for their own, and all men's, satisfaction, 

To search and re-examine the Transaction, 

And afterward to explicate the rest, 

As they should see occasion for the best. soo 

To this, at length, as th' only expedient. 
The whole assembly freely gave consent ; 
But ere the optic tube was half let down. 
Their own eyes clear'd the first phenomenon : 
For at the upper end, prodigious swarms 508 

Of busy flies and gnats, like men in arms. 
Had all past muster in the glass by chance, 
For both the Peri- and the Subvolvans. 

This being discover'd, once more put them all 
Into a worse and desperater brawl ; 510 

Surpris'd with shame, that men so grave and wist 
Should be trepann'd by paltry gnats and flies, 
And to mistake the feeble insects' swarms 
For squadrons and reserves of men in arms ; 
As politic as those who, when the Moon 615 

As bright and glorious in a river shone, 



THE ELEPHANT IN THE MOON. 173 

Threw casting-nets with equal cunning at her, 
To catch her with, and pull her out o' th' water. 

But when, at last, they had unscrew'd the glass 
To find out where the sly imposter was, 520 

And saw 'twas but a Mouse, that by mishap 
Had catch'd himself, and them, in th' optic trap, 
Amaz'd, with shame confounded, and afflicted 
To find themselves so openly convicted. 
Immediately made haste to get them gone, 526 
With none but this discovery alone : 
That learned men, who greedily pursue 
Things that are rather wonderful than true, 
And, in their nicest speculations, choose 
To make their own discoveries strange news, 530 
And nat'ral hist'ry rather a Gazette 
Of rarities stupendous and far-fet ; 

V. 521, 522. Butler, to compliment his Mouse for affording 
him an opportunity of indulging his satirical turn, and dis- 
playing his wit upon this occasion, has, to the end of this Po- 
Bm subjoined the following epigrammatical note: 

A Mouse, whose martial valour has so long 
Ago been try'd, and by old Homer sung, 
And purchas'd him more everlasting glory 
Than all his Grecian and his Trojan story. 
Though he appears unequal match'd, I grant, 
In bulk and stature by the Elephant, 
Yet frequently has been observed in battle 
To have reduced the proud and haut:,nty cattle, 
When, having boldly enter'd the redoubt, 
And storm' d the dreadful outwork of his snout, 
The little vermin, like an errant knight, 
Has slain the huge gigantic beast in fight. 



174 A SATIRE UPON 

Believe no truths are worthy to be known, 

That are not strongly vast and overgrown, 

And strive to explicate appearances, 63« 

Not as they 're probable, but as they please, 

In vain endeavour Nature to suborn, 

And, for their pains, are justly paid with scorn. 



A SATIRE UPON THE ROYAL SOCIETY. 
A FRAGMENT.* 

A LEARNED man, whom once a-week 
A hundred virtuosoes seek. 
And like an oracle apply to, 
T' ask questions, and admire, and lye to, 
Who entertain'd them all of course 
(As men take wives for better or worse) 
And past them nil for men of parts, 
Though some but sceptics in their hearts ; 

* Butler formed a design of writing another satire upon the 
Royal Society, part of wliich I find amongst his papers, fairly 
and correctly transcribed. Whether he ever finished it, or the 
remainder of it be lost, is uncertain: the Fragment, however, 
ihat is preserved, may not improperly be added in this place, 
us in some sort explanatory' of the preceding poem: and, I am 
persuaded, that those who have a taste for Butler's turn and 
humour, will think this too curious a Fragment to be lost 
though perhaps too imperfect to be formally published. 



THE ROYAL SOCIETY. 175 

Tor wlien tliey 're cast into a lump, 
riieir talents equally must jump ; 
As metals mixt, the ricli and base 
Do both at equal values pass. 

With these the ord'nary debate 
Was after news, and things of state, 
Which way the dreadful comet went 
In sixty-four, and what it meant ? 
What nations yet are to bewail 
The operation of its tail ? 
Or whether France or Holland yet. 
Or Germany, be in its debt ? 
What wars and plagues in Christendom 
Have happen'd since, and what to come ? 
What kings are dead, how many queens 
And princesses are poison'd since ? 
And who shall next of all by turn 
Make courts wear black, and tradesmen mourn ? 
What parties next of foot or horse, 
Will rout, or routed be, of course ? 
What German marches, and retrealTs, 
Will furnish the next month's Gazettes ? 
What pestilent contagion next. 
And what part of the world, infects ? 
What dreadful meteor, and where. 
Shall in the heavens next appear ? 
And when again shall lay embargo 
Upon the Admiral, the good ship Argo? 
Why currents turn in seas of ice 
l^ome thrice a-day, and some but twice ? 



J / A SATIRE UPON 

And why the tides at night and noon, 
Court, like Caligula, the Moon ? 
What is the nat'ral cause why fish 
That always drink do never piss? 
Or whether in their home, the deep, 
By night or day they ever sleep ? 
If grass be green, or snow be white, 
But only as they take the light ? 
Whether possessions of the devil, 
Or mere temptations, do most evil ? 
What is 't that makes all fountains still 
Within the earth to run up hill, 
But on the outside down again, 
As if th' attempt had been in vain ? 
Or what 's the strange magnetic cause 
The steel or loadstone 's drawn or draws? 
The star the needle, which the stone 
Has only been but touch'd upon ? 
Wliether the North-star's influence 
With both does hold intelligence ? 
(For red-hot ir'n, held tow'rds the pole, 
Turns of itself to 't when 'tis cool :) 
Or whether male and female screws 
In th' iron and stone th' effect produce ? 
What makes the body of the sun, 
That such a rapid course does run. 
To draw no tail behind through th' air, 
As comets do, when they appear. 
Which other planets cannot do. 
Because they do not burn, but glow ? 



THE ROYAL SOCIETY. 177 

WTietlier the Moon be sea or land. 

Or charcoal, or a quench'd firebrand : 

Or if the dark holes that appear, 

Are only pores, not cities, there ? 

Whether the atmosphere turn round, 

And keep a just pace with the ground, 

Or loiter lazily behind, 

And clog the air with gusts of wind ? 

Or whether crescents in the wane 

(For so an author has it plain) " 

Do burn quite out, or wear away 

Their snuffs upon the edge of day ? 

Whether the sea increase, or waste, 

And, if it do, how long 'twill last ? 

Or, if the sun approaches near 

The earth, how soon it will be there ? 

These were their learned speculations^ 
And all their constant occupations. 
To measure wind, and weigh the air, 
And turn a circle to a square ; 
To make a powder of the sun, 
By which all doctors should b' undone ; 
To find the north-west passage out, 
Although the farthest way about ; 
If chemists from a rose's ashes 
Can raise the rose itself in glasses ? 
Whether the line of incidence 
Rise from the object, or the sense ? 
To stew th' elixir in a bath 
Of hope, credulit;y, and faith; 

VOL II. 12 



178 CAT AND PUSS. 

To explicate, by subtle bints, 
Tbe grain of diamonds and flints, 
And in tbe braying of an ass 
Find out tbe treble and tbe bass ; 
If mares neigb alto, and a cow 
A double diapason low. — 



EEPARTEES BETWEEN CAT AND PUSS 

AT A CATERWAULING. IN THE MODERN 
HEROIC WAT. 

It was about tbe middle age of nigbt, 

Wben balf tbe eartb stood in tbe otber's ligbt. 

And Sleep, Deatb's brotber, yet a friend to life, 

Gave weary'd Nature a restorative, 

Wben Puss, wrapt warm in bis own native furs, 

Dreamt soundly of as soft and warm amours, 

Of making gallantry in gutter-tiles, 

A.nd sporting on deligbtful faggot-piles ; 



Jiepartees.] This poem is a satirical banter upon thoso 
heroic plays which were so much in vogue at the time our 
Author Uved ; the dialogues of which, having what they called 
Heroic Love for their subject, are carried on exactly in this 
sti'aui, as any one may perceive that will consult the dramatic 
pieces of Diyden, Settle, and others. 



CAT AND PUSS. 179 

Of* bolting out of bushes in the dark, 

As ladies use at midnight in the Park, 

Or seeking in tall garrets an alcove, 

For assignations in th' affairs of love. 

At once his passion was both false and true, 

And the more false, the more in earnest grew. 

He fancy'd that he heard those am'rous charms 

That us'd to summon him to soft alarms, 

To which he always brought an equal flame, 

To fight a rival, or to court a dame ; 

And as in dreams love's raptures are more taking 

Than all their actual enjoyments waking, 

Ilis am'rous passion grew to that extreme, 

His dream itself awak'd him from his dream. 

Thought he, AYhat place is this ? or whither art 

Thou vanish'd from me, mistress of my heart ? 

But now I had her in this very place, 

Here, fast imprison'd in my glad embrace, 

And while my joys beyond themselves were rapt, 

I know not how, nor whither, thou 'rt escap'd : 

Stay, and I'll follow thee With that he leapt 

Up from the lazy couch on which he slept. 
And, wing'd with passion, thro' his known purlieu. 
Swift as an arrow from a bow he flew. 
Nor stopp'd, until his fire had him convey'd 
\Yhere many an assignation he 'ad enjoy'd ; 
Where finding, what he sought, a mutual flame. 
That long had stay'd, and call'd before he came, 
Impatient of delay, without one word, 
To lose no further time, he fell aboard. 



J80 CAT AND PUSS. 

But grip'd so hard, he wounded what he lov'd, 
While she, in anger, thus his heat reprov'd. 
G. Forbear, foul ravisher, this rude address ; 
Canst thou, at once, both injure and caress ? 
P. Thou hast bewitch'd me with thy pow'rful 

charms, 
And I, by drawing blood, would cure my harms. 
0. He that does love would set his heart a-tilt, 
Ere one drop of his lady's should be spilt. 
P. Your wounds are but without, and mine within 
You wound my heart, and I but prick your skin ; 
And while your eyes pierce deeper than my claws^ 
You blame th' effect, of which you are the cause. 
G. How could my guiltless eyes your heart invade 
Had it not first been by your own betray 'd ? 
Hence 'tis my greatest crime has only been 
(Not in mine eyes, but yours) in being seen. 
P. I hurt to love, but do not love to hurt. 
G. That 's worse than making cruelty a sport. 
P. Pain is the foil of pleasure and delight, 
That sets it off to a more noble height. 
G. He buys his pleasure at a ra,te too vain, 
That takes it up beforehand of his pain. 
P. Pain is more dear than pleasure when 'tis past. 
G. But grows intolerable if it last. 
P. Love is too full of honour to regard 
What it enjoys, but suffers as reward. 
What knight durst ever own a lover's name, 
That had not been half murther'd by his flame ? 
Or lady, that had never lain at stake, 



CAT AND PUSS. 181 

to death, or force of rivals, for his sake ? 

C. When love does meet with injury and pain, 

Disdain 's the only med'cine for disdain. 

P. At once I'm happy, and unhappy too, 

In being pleas'd, and in displeasing you. 

O. Prepost'rous way of pleasure and of love, 

That contrary to its own end would move! 

'Tis rather hate that covets to destroy ; 

Love's business is to love, and to enjoy. 

P. Enjoying and destroying are all one, 

As flames destroy that which they feed upon. 

G. He never lov'd at any gen'rous rate, 

That in th' enjoyment found his flame abate. 

As wine (the friend of love) is wont to make 

The thirst more violent it pretends to slake, 

So should fruition do the lover's Are, 

Instead of lessening, inflame desire. 

P. What greater proof that passion does transport 

When what I would die for I'm forced to hurt ? 

C Death, among lovers, is a thing despis'd, 

And far below a sullen humour priz'd, 

That is more scorn'd and rail'd at than the gods, 

When they are cross'd in Jove, or fall at odds : 

But since you understand not what you do, 

I am the judge of what I feel, not you. 

P. Passion begins indifferent to prove, 

When love considers any thing but love. 

0. The darts of love, like lightning, wound within, 

Ind, though they pierce it, never hurt the skin ; 

They leave no marks behind 'hem where they iU; 



182 CAT AND PUSS. 

Though tlu^ough the tend'rest part of all, the eyt 

But your sharp claws have left enough to shew 

How tender I have been, how cruel you. 

P. Pleasure is pain, for when it is enjoy'd, 

All it could wish for was but to b' allay'd. 

(j. Force is a rugged way of making love. 

P. What you like best, you always disapprove. 

C. He that will wrong his love will not be nice, 

T' excuse the wrong he does, to wrong her twice. 

P. Nothing is wrong but that w^hich is ill meant. 

G, Wounds are ill cured with a good intent. 

P. When you mistake that for an injury 

I never meant, you do the wrong, not I. 

G. You do not feel yourself the pain you give : 

But 'tis not that alone for which I grieve, 

But 'tis your want of passion that I blame, 

That can be cruel w^here you own a flame. 

P, 'Tis you are guilty of that cruelty 

Which you at once outdo, and blame in me; 

For while you stifle and inflame desire. 

You burn and starve me in the self-same fire. 

G. It is not I, but you that do the hurt. 

Who wound yourself, and then accuse me for 't ; 

As thieves, that rob themselves 'twixt sun and sua 

Make others pay for what themselves have done. 



ON THE BRITISH PRINCES. 183 

TO THK 

HONOURABLE EDWARD HOAVARD, ESQ. 

UPON HIS INCOMPARABLE POEM OF 
THE BRITISH PRINCES.* 

Sir, 
You have oblig'd the British nation more 
Than all their bards could ever do before, 
And, at your own charge, monuments more hard 
Than brass or marble to their fame have rear'd ; 
For as all warlike nations take delight 
To hear how brave their ancestors could fight, 
You have advanc'd to wonder their renown. 
And no less virtuously improv'd your own : 
For 't will be doubted whether you do write, 
Or they have acted, at a nobler height. 
You of their ancient princes have retriev'd 
More than the ages knew in which they liv'd ; 
Describ'd their customs and their rites anew, 
Better than all their Druids ever knew ; 
Unriddled their dark oracles as well 
As those themselves that made them could foretell : 
For, as the Britons long have hop'd, in vain, 
Arthur would come to govern them again, 

* Most of the celebrated wits in Charles II. 's reign ad- 
dressed this gentleman in a bantering way upon his poem 
Kalled ' The British Princes,' and among the rest, Butler. 



181 ON THE BRITISH PRINCES. 

You have fulfiird that prophecy alone, 

And in this poem plac'd him on his throne. 

Such magic pow'r has your prodigious pen, 

To raise the dead, and give new life to men ; 

Make rival princes meet in arms, and love, 

Whom distant ages did so far remove : 

For as eternity has neither past 

Nor future (authors say), nor first, nor last, 

But is all instant, your eternal Muse 

All ages can to any one reduce. 

Then why should you, whose miracle of art 

Can life at pleasure to the dead impart. 

Trouble in vain your better-busied head 

T' observe what time they liv'd in, or were dead ^ 

For since you have such arbitrary power, 

It were defect in judgment to go lower, 

Or stoop to things so pitifully lewd, 

As use to take the vulgar latitude. 

There 's no man fit to read what you have writ, 

That holds not some proportion with your wit ; 

As light can no way but by light appear. 

He must bring sense that understands it here. 



ON THE BRITISH PRINCES. 185 



A PALmODIE 

TO THE HONOURABLE EDWARD HOWARD, ESQ. 

UPON HIS INCOMPARABLE POEM OP 

THE BRITISH PRINCES. 

It is your pardon, Sir, for which my Muse 
Thrice humbly thus in form of paper sues ; 
For having felt the dead weight of your wit. 
She comes to ask forgiveness and submit ; 
Is sorry for her faults, and, wliile I write, 
Mourns in the black, does penance in the white : 
But such is her belief in your just candour. 
She hopes you will not so misunderstand her, 
To wrest her harmless meaning to the sense 
Of silly emulation or offence. 
No ; your sufficient wit does still declare 
Itself too amply, they are mad that dare 
So vain and senseless a presumption own. 
To yoke your vast parts in comparison : 
And yet you might have thought upon a way 
T' instruct us how you 'd have us to obey. 
And not command our praises, and then blame ' 
All that 's too great or little for your fame • 
For who could choose but err, without some trick 
To take your elevation to a nick ? 
As he that was deslr'd, upon occasion, 
To make the Mayor of London an ctration, 



186 ON THE BRITISH PRINCES. 

Desir'd his Lordship's favour, that he might 
Take measure of his mouth to fit it right ; 
So, had you sent a scantling of your wit, 
You might have blamed us if it did not fit ; 
But 'tis not just t' impose, and then cry dowD 
All that 's unequal to your huge renown : 
For he that writes below your vast desert, 
Betrays his own, and not your want of art. 
Praise, like a robe of state, should not sit close 
To th' person 'tis made for, but wide and loose ; 
Derives its comeliness from b'ing unfit, 
And such have been our praises of your wit, 
Wliich is so extraordinary, no height 
Of fancy but your own can do it right : 
Witness those glorious poems you have writ 
With equal judgment, learning, art, and wit, 
And those stupendious discoveries 
You 'ave lately made of wonders in the skies : 
For who, but from yourself, did ever hear 
The sphere of atoms was the atmosphere ? 
Who ever shut those stragglers in a room, 
Or put a circle about vacuum ? 
What should confine those undetermin'd crowds, 
And yet extend no further than the clouds ? 
Who ever could have thought, but you alone, 
A sijrn and an ascendant were all one ? 
Or how 'tis possible the moon should shroud 
Her face to peep at Mars behind a cloud. 
Since clouds below are so far distant plac'd, 
They cannot hinder her from being barefac'd ? 



ON THE BRITISH PRINCES. 187 

Wlio ever did a language so enrich, 

To scorn all little particles of speech r 

For tho' they make the sense clear, yet they 're 

found 
To be a scurvy hind'rance to the sound ; 
Therefore you wisely scorn your style to humble, 
Or for the sense's sake to wave the rumble. 
Had Homer known this art he 'ad ne'er been fain 
To use so many particles in vain, 
That to no purpose serve, but (as he haps 
To want a syllable) to fill up gaps. 
You justly coin new verbs, to pay for those 
Which in construction you o'ersee and lose ; 
And by this art do Priscian no wrong 
When you break 's head, for 'tis as broad as long 
These are your own discoveries, which none 
But such a Muse as yours could hit upon, 
That can, in spite of laws of art, or rules. 
Make things more intricate than all the schools : 
For what have laws of art to do with you, 
More than the laws with honest men and true ? 
He that 's a prince in poetry should strive 
To cry 'em down by his prerogative, 
And not submit to that which has no force 
!^ut o'er delinquents and inferiors. 
Your poems will endure to be [well] try'd 
I' th' fire like gold, and come forth purify'd ; 
Can only to eternity pretend. 
For they were never writ to any end. 
All other books bear an mcertain rate, 



188 ON THE BRITISH PRINCES. 

But those you write are always sold by weight ; 
Each word and syllable brought to the scale, 
And valued to a scruple in the sale. 
For when the paper 's charg'd with your rich wit, 
'Tis for all purposes and uses fit, 
Has an abstersive vu'tue to make clean 
Whatever Nature made in man obscene. 
Boys find b' experiment, no paper kite 
^Yithout your verse can make a noble flight. 
It keeps our spice and aromatics sweet ; 
In Paris they perfume their rooms with it. 
For burning but one leaf of yours, they say, 
Drives all their stinks and nastiness away. 
Cooks keep their pies from burning with your wit 
Their pigs and geese from scorching on the spit ; 
And vintners find their wines are ne'er the worse, 
When arsenic 's only wrapp'd up in the verse. 
These are the great performances that raise 
Your mighty parts above all reach of praise, 
And give us only leave t' admire your worth, 
For no man, but yourself, can set it forth. 
Whose wondrous pow'r 's so generally known, 
Fame is the echo, and her voice your own. 



A PANEGYRIC, ETC. 189 



A PANEGYRIC 

UPON SIR JOHN DENHAM's RECOVERY FROM 
HIS MADNESS.* 

Sir, you 'ave outliv'd so desperate a fit 

As none could do but an immortal wit ; 

Had yours been less, all helps had been in vain, 

And thrown away though on a less sick brain ; 

But you were so far from receiving hurt, 

You grow improv'd, and much the better for *t 

As when th' Arabian bird does sacrifice. 

And burn himself in his own country's spice, 

A maggot first breeds in his pregnant urn, 

Which after does to a young phoenix turn : 

So your hot brain, burnt in its native fire, 

Did life renew'd and vigorous youth acquire 

And with so much advantage, some have guest 

Your after-wit is hke to be your best, 

And now expect far greater matters of ye 

Than the bought Cooper's Hill, or borrow'd Sophy; 

* It must surprise the reader to find a writer of Butler's 
judgment attacking, in so severe and contemptuous a manner, 
the character of a Poet so mucli esteemed as Sir Jolin Den- 
ham was. If what he cliarges him with be true, there is in- 
deed some room for satire : but still there is such a spirit of 
bitterness luns through the whole, besides the cnielty of ridi- 
cuUng an infinnity of this nature, as can be accounted for by 
nothing but some personal quarrel or disgust. How far this 
weakness may carry the greatest geniuses, we have a proof ir 
what Pope has written of \ddison. 



190 A PAXEGTRIC 

Such as your Tullj lately dress'd iii verse, 

Like those he made himself, or not much worse 5 

And Seneca's dry sand unmix'd with lime, 

Such as you cheat the king with, botch'd in rhyme. 

Nor were your morals less improv'd, all pride, 

And native insolence, quite laid aside ; 

And that ungovern'd outrage, that was wont 

All, that you durst with safety, to affront. 

No China cupboard rudely overthrown. 

Nor lady tipp'd, by being accosted, down ; 

No poet jeer'd, for scribbling amiss, 

With verses forty times more lewd than his 

Nor did your crutch give battle to your duns, 

And hold it out, where you had built a sconce ; 

Nor furiously laid orange-wench aboard. 

For asking what in fruit and love you 'ad scor'd 

But all civility and complacence. 

More than you ever us'd before or since. 

Beside, you never over-reach'd the King 

One farthing, all the while, in reckoning. 

Nor brought in false accompt, with little tricks 

Of passing broken rubbish for whole bricks ; 

False mustering of workmen by the day, 

Deduction out of wages, and dead pay 

For those that never liv'd ; all which did come, 

By thrifty management, to no small sum. 

You pull'd no lodgings down, to build them worse, 

Nor repair'd others, to repair your purse. 

As you were wont, till ail you built appear'd 

Like that Amphion with his fiddle rear'd ; 



UPON SIR JOHN DENHAM. 1^1 

For had the stones (like his), charm'd bj your 

verse, 
Built up themselves, they could not have done 

worse : 
And sure, when first you ventur'd to survey, 
You did design to do 't no other way. 
All this was done before those days began 
In which you were a wise and happy man : 
For who e'er liv'd in such a paradise. 
Until fresh straw and darkness op'd your eyes ? 
Who ever greater treasure could command. 
Had nobler palaces, and richer land. 
Than you had then, who could raise sums as vast 
As all the cheats of a Dutch war could waste, 
Or all those practis'd upon public money ? 
For nothing, but your cure, could have undone 

ye. 
For ever are you bound to curse those quacks 
That undertook to cure your happy cracks ; 
For though no art can ever make .them sound. 
The tamp'ring cost you threescore thousand pound. 
How high might you have liv'd, and play'd, and 

lost. 
Yet been no more undone by being choust, 
Nor forc'd upon the King's accompt to lay 
All that, in serving him, you lost at play ? 
For nothing but your brain was ever foun^ 
To suffer sequestration, and compound. 
Yet you 'ave an imposition laid on bricK, 
For all you then laid out at Beast or Gleek ; 



192 ON CRITICS. 

And when jou 'ave rais'd a sum, strait let it fly, 
By understanding low and vent'ring high ; 
Until you have reduc'd it down to tick, 
And then recruit again from lime and brick. 



ON CRITICS 

WHO JUDGE OF MODERN PLAYS PRECISELY B\ 
THE RULES OP THE ANCIENTS.* 

Who ever will regard poetic fury, 

When it is once found Idiot by a jury, 

And every pert and arbitrary fool 

Can all poetic license over-rule ; 

Assume a barb'rous tyranny, to handle 

The Muses worse than Ostrogoth and Vandal ; 

Make them submit to verdict and report, 

And stand or fall to th' orders of a court ? 

Much less be sentenc'd by the arbitrary 

Proceedings of a witless plagiary. 

That forges old records and ordinances 

Against the right and property of fancies. 

More false and nice than weighing of the weather 

To th' hundredth atom of the lightest feather, 

* This warm invective was very probably occasioned by 
Mr. RjTnor, Historiographer to Charles 11. who censured tbree 
^•agedies of Beaumont's and Fletcher's. 



ON CRITICS. 193 

Or measuring of air upon Parnassus, 

With cylinders of Torricellian glasses ; 

Reduce all Tragedy, by rules of art, 

Back to its antique theatre, a cart. 

And make them henceforth keep the beaten roada 

Of rev'rend choruses and episodes ; 

Reform and regulate a puppet-play. 

According to the true and ancient way, 

That not an actor shall presume to squeak, 

Unless he have a license for 't in Greek ; 

Nor Whittington henceforward sell his cat in 

Plain vulgar English, without mewing Latin : 

No pudding shall be sufFer'd to be witty, 

Unless it be in order to raise pity ; 

Nor devil in the puppet-play b' allow'd 

To roar and spit fire, but to fright the crowd. 

Unless some god or demon chance t' have piques 

Against an ancient family of Greeks ; 

That other men may tremble, and take warning, 

How such a fatal progeny they 're born in ; 

For none but such for Tragedy are fitted. 

That have been ruin'd only to be pity'd ; 

And only those held proper to deter. 

Who 'ave had th' ill luck against their wills to err. 

Whence only such as are of middling sizes, 

(Between morality and venial vices. 

Are qualify'd to be destroy'd by Fate, 

For other mortals to take warning at. 

As if the antique laws of Tragedy 
Did with our own municipal agree, 

vor,. II 13 



101 ON 'JRITICS. 

Ajid serv'd, like cobwebs, but t' eiis'nare the weak, 
And give diversion to the great to break ; 
To make a less delinquent to be brought 
To answer for a greater person's fault, 
And suffer all the worst the worst approver 
Can, to excuse and save himself, discover. 

No longer shall Dramatics be confin'd 
To draw true images of all mankind : 
To punish in effigy criminals. 
Reprieve the innocent, and hang the false ; 
But a club-law to execute and kill. 
For nothing, whomsoe'er they please, at will, 
To terrify spectators from committing 
The crimes they did, and suffer'd for, unwitting. 

These are the reformations of the Stage, 
Like other reformations of the age. 
On purpose to destroy all wit and sense 
As the other did all law and conscience ; 
No better than the laws of British plays, 
Confirm'd in th' ancient good King Howell's days, 
Who made a gen'ral council regulate 
Men's catching women by the — you know what 
And set down in the rubrick at what time 
It should be counted legal, when a crime. 
Declare when 'twas, and when 'twas not a sin, 
And on what days it went out or came in. 

An English poet should be tried b' his peers, 
And not by pedants and philosophers, 
Incompetent to judge poetic fury, 
As butchers are forbid to b' of a jury ; 



ox CRITICS. 195 

Besides the most intolerable wrong 

I'o try their matters in a foreign tongue, 

By foreign jurymen, like Sophocles, 

Or Tales falser than Euripides ; 

When not an English native dares appear 

To be a witness for the prisoner ; 

"When all the laws they use t' arraign and try 

The innocent and wrong'd delinquent by, 

"Were made by a foreign lawyer, and his pupils, 

To put an end to all poetic scruples, 

And by th' advice of virtuosi Tuscans, 

Determin'd all the doubts of socks and buskins ; 

Gave judgment on all past and future plays, 

As is apparent by Speroni's case. 

Which Lope Vega first began to steal. 

And after him the French filou Corneille ; 

And since our English plagiaries nim, 

And steel their far-fet criticisms from him, 

And, by an action falsely laid of Trover, 

The lumber for their proper goods recover; 

Enough to furnish all the lewd impeachers 

Of witty Beaumont's poetry, and Fletcher's, 

"Wlio for a few misprisions of wit. 

Are charg'd by those who ten times worse commit; 

And for misjudging some unhappy scenes, 

Are censur'd for 't vith more unlucky sense ; 

When all their worst miscarriages delight, 

^d please more than the best that pedants write. 



196 PROLOGUE. 



PROLOGUE TO THE QUEEN OF ARRAGON 

ACTED BEFORE THE DUKE OF YORK, UPON 
HIS BIRTH DAY. 

Sir, while so many nations strive to pay 

The tribute of their glories to this day, 

That gave them earnest of so great a sum 

Of glory (from your future acts) to come. 

And which you have discharg'd at such a rate, 

That all succeeding times must celebrate, 

We, that subsist by your bright influence. 

And have no life but what we own from thence, 

Come humbly to present you, our own way. 

With all we have (beside our hearts), a play. 

But as devoutest men can pay no more 

To deities than what they gave before. 

We bring you only what your great commands 

Did rescue for us from in^rossino^ hands, 

That would have taken out administration 

Of all departed poets' goods i' th' nation ; 

Or, like to lords of manors, seiz'd all plays 

That come within their reach, as wefts and strays, 

And claim'd a forfeiture of all past wit, 

But that your justice put a stop to it. 

Twas well for us, who else must have been glad 

T' admit of all who now write new and bad ; 

For still the wickeder some authors write, 



EPILOGUE. 1 07 

Others to write worse are encourag'd by 't ; 
And though those fierce inquisitors of wit, 
The critics, spare no flesh that ever writ, 
But just as tooth-draw'rs find, among the rout, 
Their own teem work in pulling others out, 
So they, decrying all of all that write. 
Think to erect a trade of judging by 't. 
Small poetry, like other heresies. 
By being persecuted multiplies; 
But here they 're like to fail of all pretence , 
For he that writ this play is dead long since. 
And not within their power ; for bears are said 
To spare those that lie still and seem but dead. 



EPILOGUE TO THE SAME. 

TO THE DUCHESS. 

Madam, the joys of this great day are due, 

No less than to your royal Lord, to you ; 

And while three mighty kingdoms pay your part. 

You have what 's greater than them all, his heart. 

That heart, that when it was his country's guard. 

The fury of two elements out-dar'd, 

And made a stubborn haughty enemy 

The terror of his dreadful conduct fly. 

And yet you conquer'd it — and made your charms 



198 ON PHILIP NYE'S 

A-ppear no less victorious tlian his arms, 

For which you oft have triumph'd on this clay, 

And many more to come, Heav'n grant you may 

But as great princes use, in solemn times 

Of joy, to pardon aU but heinous crimes, 

If we have sinn'd without an ill intent. 

And done below what really we meant, 

We humbly ask your pardon for 't, and pray 

You would forgive, in honour of the day. 



ON PHILIP NYE'S THANKSGIVING BEARD* 

A BEARD is but the vizard of a face, 
That Nature orders for no other place ; 
The fring-e and tassel of a countenance, 
That hides his person from another man's, 
And, like the Roman habits of their youth, 
Is never worn until his perfect growth ; 

* As our Poet has thought fit to bestow so many verses 
upon this trumpeter of sedition, it may, perhaps, be no thank- 
less ofiice to give the reader some further information about 
him than what merely relates to his beard. He was educated 
Ht Oxford, first in Brasen-nose College, and afterwards in 
Magdalen Hall, where, under the influence of a Puritanical 
tutor, he received the first tincture of sedition and disgiast to 
Dur ecclesiastical establishment. After taking his degi-ees h? 
went ii to orders, but soon left England to go and reside iu 
Holland, where he was not very hkely to lessen those preju- 



THANKSGIVING BEARD. 199 

A privilege no other creature has, 
To wear a nat'ral mask upon his face, 
That shifts its Hkeness every day he wears, 
To fit some other persons' characters, 
And by its own mythology impUes, 
That men were born to live in some disguise. 
This satisfy'd a rev'rend man, that clear'd 
His disagreeing conscience by his Beard. 
He 'ad been preferr'd i' th' army, when the church 
Was taken with a Why not ? in the lurch ; 
When primate, metropolitan, and prelates. 
Were turn'd to officers of horse, and zealots, 
From whom he held the most pluralities 
Of contributions, donatives, and sal'ries : 
Was held the chiefest of those spiritual trumpets, 
That sounded charges to their fiercest combats. 
But in the desperatest of defeats 
Had never blown as opportune retreats. 
Until the Synod order'd his departure 
To London, from his caterwauling quarter. 



dices which he had already imbibed. In the year 1640 he re- 
turned home, became a furious Presbyterian, and a zealous 
stickler for the Parliament, and was thought considerable 
enough, in his way, to be sent by his party into Scotland, to 
encourage and spirit up the cause of the Covenant, in defence 
of which he wrote several pamphlets. However, as his zeal 
arose from self-interest and ambition, when the Independents 
began to have the ascendant, and power and profit ran in that 
channel, he faced about, and became a strenuous preacher on 
that side; and in this situatior. he v as when be fell under the 
'ash of Butler's satire. 



200 ON PHILIP NYE'a 

To sit among them, as he had been chosen, 
And pass or null things at his own disposing •, 
Could clap up souls in limbo with a vote, 
And, for their fees, discharge and let them out ; 
Which made some grandees bribe him with the 

place 
Of holding-forth upon Thanksgiving-days, 
Whither the Members, two and two abreast, 
March'd to take in the spoils of all — the feast. 
But by the way repeated the oh-hones 
Of his wild Irish and chromatic tones ; 
His frequent and pathetic hums and haws, 
He practis'd only t' animate the Cause, 
With which the Sisters were so prepossest, 
They could remember nothing of the rest. 

He thought upon it, and resolv'd to put 
His Beard into as wonderful a cut. 
And, for the further service of the women, 
T' abate the rigidness of his opinion ; 
And, but a day before, had been to find 
The ablest virtuoso of the kind. 
With whom he long and seriously conferr'd 
On all intrigues that might concern his Beard 
By whose advice he sat for a design 
In little drawn, exactly to a line, 
That if the creature chance to have occasion 
To undergo a thorough reformation. 
It might be borne conveniently about, 
And by the meanest artist copy'd out. 

This done, he sent a journeyman sectary 



THANKSGIVING BEARD. 20J 

He 'ad brought up to retrieve, and fetch and cany, 
To find out one that had the greatest practice, 
To prune and bleach the beards of all Fanatics, 
And set their most confus'd disorders right, 
Not by a new design, but newer light. 
Who us'd to shave the grandees of their sticklers. 
And crop the worthies of their Conventiclers ; 
To whom he shew'd his new-invented drauaht. 
And told him how 'twas to be copy'd out. 

Quoth he, 'Tis but a false and counterfeit, 
And scandalous device, of human wit. 
That 's abs'lutely forbidden in the Scripture, 
To make of any carnal thing the picture. 
Quoth th' other saint, You must leave that to us 
T' agree what 's lawful, or what scandalous. 
For, 'till it is determin'd by our vote, 

'Tis either lawful, scandalous, or not ; 

Which, since we have not yet agreed upon. 

Is left indifF'rent to avoid or own. 

Quoth he. My conscience never shall a<»-ree 

To do it, till I know what 'tis to be ; 

For though I use it in a lawful time, 

Wliat if it after should be made a crime ? 
'Tis true we fought for liberty of conscience, 

'Gainst human constitutions, in our own sense. 

Which I 'm resolv'd perpetually t' avow, 

And make it lawful whatsoe'er we do ; 

Then do your office with your greatest skill, 

And let th' event befall us how it will. 
This said, the nice barbarian took his tools, 



202 ON PHILIP nye's thanksgiving beard. 

To prune the zealot's tenets and his jowles ; 
Talk'd on as pertinently as he snipt, 
A hundred times for every hair he clipt ; 
Until the Beard at length began t' appear, 
And re-assume its antique character, 
Grew more and more itself, that art might strive 
And stand in competition with the life ; 
For some have doubted if 'twere made of snips 
Of sables, glew'd and fitted to his lips, 
And set in such an artificial frame, 
As if it had been wrought in filograin, 
More subtly fil'd and polish'd than the gin 
That Vulcan caught himself a cuckold in ; 
That Lachesis, that spins the threads of Fate, 
Could not have drawn it out more delicate. 
But being design'd and drawn so regular, 
T' a scrupulous punctilio of a hair, 
Who could imagine that it should be portal 
To selfish, inward-unconforming mortal ? 
And yet it was, and did abominate 
The least compliance in the Church or State, 
And from itself did equally dissent, 
As from religion and the government.* 



* Among Butler's manuscripts are several other little 
Bketches upon the same subject, but none worth printing, ex- 
cept the following one may be tliought passable by way o* 
lote: 

This rev'rend brother, like a goat, 
Did wear a tail upon his throat, 
The fringe and tassel of a face, 



WEAKNESS AND MISERY OF MAN. 203 



SATIRE UPON THE WEAIOESS AND 
MISERY OF MAN.* 

Who would believe that wicked earth, 
Where Nature only brings us forth 
To be found guilty and forgiv'n, 
Should be a nursery for Heav'n ; 

That gives it a becoming grace, 

But set in such a curious frame, 

As if 'twere wrought in filograin, 

And cut so ev'n, as if 't had been 

Drawn with a pen upon his chin. 

No topiary hedge of quickset. 

Was e'er so neatly cut, or thick-set, 

That made beholders more admire, 

Than China-plate that 's made of wire; 

But being wrought so regular, 

In every part, and every hair. 

Who would believe it should be portal 

To unconforming-inward mortal? 

And yet it was, and did dissent 

No less from its own government. 

Than from the Churches, and detest 

That which it held forth and profest ; 

Did equally abominate 

Conformity in Church and State ; 

And, like an hypocritic brother. 

Profess' d one thing, and did another, 

As all things, where they 're most profest, 

Are found to be regarded ^east. 

* Li this composition the reader will have the pleasure of 
viewing Butler in a light in which he has not hitherto a])- 



304 UPON THE WEAKNESS 

Wlien all we can expect to do 

Will not pay half the debt we owe ; 

And yet more desperately dare, 

As if that wretched trifle were 

Too much for the eternal Pow'rs, 

Our great and mighty creditors, 

Not only slight what they enjoin, 

But pay it in adult'rate coin ? 

We only in their mercy trust, 

To be more wicked and unjust ; 

All our devotions, vows, and pray'rs, 

Are our own interest, not theirs ; 

Our off'rings, when we come t' adore, 

But begging presents to get more ; 

The purest bus'ness of our zeal 

Is but to err, by meaning well. 

And make that meaning do more harm 

Than our worst deeds, that are less warm ; 

For the most wretched and perverse 

Does not believe himself he errs. 

peared. Every thing, almost, that he has wrote, is indeed 
satirical, but in an arch and droll manner, and he may be said 
rather to have laughed at the vices and foUies of mankind than 
to have railed at them. In this he is serious and severe, ex- 
.jhanges the ' ridiculum ' for the * acri,' and writes with the 
spirited indignation of a Juvenal or a Persius. Good-natured 
readers may perhaps think the invective too bitter ; but the 
lame good-nature will excuse the Poet, when it is considered 
what an edge must be given to his satirical wit by the age in 
which he lived, distinguished by the two extremes of hy- 
oocrisy and enthusiasm on the one part, and irreligion anr 
immorahty on the other. 



AND MISERY OF MAN. 205 

Our holiest actions have been 
Th' effects of wickedness and sin ; 
Religious houses made compounders 
For th' horrid actions of the founders; 
Steeples that totter'd in the air, 
By letchers sinn'd into repair ; 
As if we had retain'd no sign 
Nor character of the divine 
A.nd heav'nly part of human nature, 
But only the coarse earthy matter. 
Our universal inclination 
Tends to the worst of our creation, 
As if the stars conspir'd t' imprint. 
In our whole species, by instinct, 
A fatal brand and signature 
Of nothing else but the impure. 
The best of all our actions tend 
To the preposterousest end, 
And, like to mongrels, we 're inclin'd 
To take most to th' ignobler kind ; 
Or monsters, that have always least 
Of th' human parent, not the beast. 
Hence 'tis we 'ave no regard at all 
Of our best half original ; 
But, when they differ, still assert 
The int'rest of th' ignobler part ; 
Spend all the time we have upon 
The vain capriches of the one. 
But grudge to spare one hour to know 
What to the better part we owe. 



20 G UPON THE WEAKNESS 

As in all compound substances, 

The greater still devours the less, 

So, being born and bred up near 

Our earthly gross relations here, 

Far from the ancient nobler place 

Of all our high paternal race, 

We now degenerate, and grow 

As barbarous, and mean, and low, 

As modern Grecians are, and worse, 

To their brave nobler ancestors. 

Yet, as no barbarousness beside 

Is half so barbarous as pride. 

Nor any prouder insolence 

Than that which has the least pretence, 

We are so wretched to profess 

A glory in our wretchedness ; 

To vapour sillily, and rant 

Of our own misery and want, 

And grow vain-glorious on a score 

We ought much rather to deplore. 

Who, the first moment of our lives. 

Are but condemn'd, and giv'n reprieves : 

.^nd our great'st grace is not to know 

When we shall pay them back, nor how, 

Begotten with a vain capricb, 

And live as vainly to that pitch. 

Our pains are real things, and all 
Our pleasures but fantastical ; 
Diseases of iheir own accord, 
But cures come difficult and hard. 



AND MISERY OF MAN. 207 

Our uoblest piles, and stateliest rooms, 
Are but out-houses to our tombs ; 
Cities, though e'er so great and brave. 
But mere warehouses to the grave. 
Our bravery 's but a vain disguise. 
To hide us from the world's duU eyes, 
The remedy of a defect, 
With which our nakedness is deckt : 
Yet makes us sweU with pride, and boast. 
As if we 'ad gain'd by being lost. 
All this is nothing to the evils 
Which men, and their confed'rate devils. 
Inflict, to aggravate the curse 
On their own hated kind much worse ; 
As if by Nature they ad been serv'd 
More gently than their fate deserv'd, 
Take pains (in justice) to invent, 
And study their own punishment ; 
That, as their crimes should greater grow, 
So might their own inflictions too. 
Hence bloody wars at first began. 
The artificial plague of man, 
That from his own invention rise 
To scourge his own iniquities ; 
That, if the heav'ns should chance to spare 
bJupplies of constant poison'd air. 
They might not, with unfit delay. 
For lingering destruction stay, 
Nor s(^ek recruits of death so far. 
But plague themselves with blood and war. 



£08 UPON THE WEAKNESS 

And if these fail, there is no good 
Kind Nature e'er on man bestow'd, 
But he can easily divert 
To his own misery and hurt ; 
Make that which Heaven meant to bless 
Th' ungrateful world with, gentle Peace, 
"With lux'ry and excess, as fast 
As war and desolation, waste ; 
Promote mortality, and kill, 
As fast as arms, by sitting still ; 
Like earthquakes, slay without a blow, 
And, only moving, overthrow ; 
Make law and equity as dear 
As plunder and free-quarter were ; 
And fierce encounters at the bar 
Undo as fast as those in war ; 
Enrich bawds, whores, and usurers, 
Pimps, scriv'ners, silenc'd ministers, 
That get estates by being undone 
For tender conscience, and have none. 
Like those that with their credit drive 
A trade, without a stock, and thrive ; 
Advance men in the church and state 
For being of the meanest rate, 
Kais'd for their double-guil'd deserts, 
Before integrity and parts ; 
Produce more grievous complaints 
For plenty, than before for wants, 
And make a rich and fruitful year 
A greater grievance than a dear ; 



AND MISERY OF MAN. 209 

Make jests of greater dangers far, 
Than those they trembled at in war ; 
Till, unawares, they 'ave laid a train 
To blow the public up again ; 
Rally with horror, and, in sport. 
Rebellion and destruction court, 
And make Fanatics, in despight 
Of all their madness, reason right. 
And vouch to all they have foreshown, 
As other monsters oft have done, 
Although from truth and sense as far, 
As all their other maggots are : 
For things said false, and never meant, 
Do oft prove true by accident. 

That wealth that bounteous Fortune sends 
As presents to her dearest friends, 
Is oft laid out upon a purchase 
Of two yards long in parish churches. 
And those two happy men that bought it 
Had liv'd, and happier too, without it : 
For what does vast wealth bring but cheat, 
Law, luxury, disease, and debt ; 
Pain, pleasure, discontent, and sport. 
An easy-troubled life, and short ? * 

* Though tills satire seems fairly transcribed for the press, 
yet, on a vacancy in the sheet opposite to this Une, are found 
tiie following verses, which probably were intended to be add 
ed; but as they are not regularly inserted, they are given by 
way of note. 

For men ne'er digg'd so deep into 
The bowels of the earth below, 

■«^OL. II. 14 



210 UPON THE WEAKNESS 

But all these plagues are nothing near 
Those, far more cruel and severe, 
Unhappy man takes pains to find, 
T' inflict himself upon his mind : 
And out of his own bowels spins 
A rack and torture for his sins ; 
Torments himself, in vain, to know 
That most which he can never do : 
And, the more strictly 'tis deny'd, 
The more he is unsatisfy'd ; 
Is busy in finding scruples out, 
To languish in eternal doubt ; 
Sees spectres in the dark, and ghosts. 
And starts, as horses do, at posts. 
And when his eyes assist him least, 
Discerns such subtle objects best : 
On hypothetic dreams and visions 
Grounds everlasting disquisitions. 
And raises endless controversies 
On vulgar theorems and hearsays ; 

For metals, that are found to dwell 
Near neighbour to the pit of hell, 
And have a magic pow'r to sway 
The greedy souls of men that way, 
But with their bodies have been fain 
To fill those trenches up again ; 
When bloodybattles have been fought 
For sharing that which they took out; 
For wealth is all things that conduce 
To man's destruction or his use; 
A standard both to buy and sell 
All things from heaven down to hell. 



AND MISERY OF MAN. 211 

Grows positive and confident, 

In tilings so far beyond th' extent 

Of human sense, he does not know 

Whether they be at all or no. 

And doubts as much in things that are 

As pl^nly evident and clear ; 

Disdains all useful sense, and plain, 

T' apply to th' intricate and vain ; 

And cracks his brains in plodding on 

That which is never to be known ; 

To pose himself with subtleties. 

And hold no other knowledge wise ; 

Although the subtler all things are, 

They 're but to nothing the more near ; 

And the less weight they can sustain, 

The more he still lays on in vain, 

And hangs his soul upon as nice 

And subtle curiosities, 

As one of that vast multitude 

That on a needle's point have stood ; 

Weighs right and wrong, and true and false 

Upon as nice and subtle scales. 

As those that turn upon a plane 

With th' hundredth part of half a grain, 

And still the subtler they move. 

The sooner false and useless prove. 

So man, that thinks to force and strain, 

Beyond its natural sphere, his brain, 

in vain torments it on the rack, 

A.nd, for improving, sets it back 



212 LICENTIOUS A.GE 

Is ignorant of his own extent, 
And that to which his aims are bent ; 
Is lost in both, and breaks his blade 
Upon the anvil where 'twas made : 
For, as abortions cost more pain 
Than vig'rous births, so all the vain 
And weak productions of man's wit. 
That aim at purposes unfit. 
Require more drudgery, and worse. 
Than those of strong and lively force. 



SATIRE * UPON THE LICENTIOUS AGE 
OF CHARLES H. 

'Tis a strange age we 'ave liv'd in, and a lewd, 
As e'er the sun in all his travels view'd ; 
An age as vile as ever Justice urg'd, 
Like a fantastic letcher, to be scourg'd ; 
Nor has it 'scap'd, and yet has only learn'd, 
The more 'tis plagued, to be the less concern'd. 
Twice have we seen two dreadful judgments rage, 

* As the preceding satire was upon mankind in general, 
with some allusion to that age in which it was wrote, this is 
oarticularlj levelled at the licentious and debauched times of 
Charles II. humorousl}' contrasted with the Puritanical ones 
which went before, and is a fresh proof of the Author's im 
partiality, and that he was not, as is generally, but falsely 
imagined, a bigot to the Cavalier party. 



OF CHARLES II. 213 

Enough to fright the stubborn'st-hearted age ; 

The one to mow vast crowds of people down, 

The other (as then needless) half the Town ; 

And two as mighty miracles restore 

What both had ruin'd and destroy'd before ; 

In all as unconcern'd as if they 'ad been 

But pastimes for diversion to be seen, 

Or, like the plagues of Egypt, meant a curse, 

Not to reclaim us, but to make us worse. 

Twice have men turn'd the World (that sill^ 
blockhead) 
The wrong side outward, hke a juggler's pocket, 
Shook out hypocrisy as fast and loose 
As e'er the dev'l could teach, or sinners use, 
And on the other side at once put in 
As impotent iniquity and sin. 
As sculls that have been crack'd are often found 
Upon the wrong side to receive the wound ; 
And, like tobacco-pipes, at one end hit. 
To break at th' other still that 's opposite ; 
So men, who one extravagance would shun. 
Into the contrary extreme have run ; 
And all the difference is, that as the first 
Provokes the other freak to prove the worst, 
So, in return, that strives to render less 
The last delusion, with its own excess. 
And, like two unskill'd gamesters, use one way. 
With bungling t' help out one another's play. 
For those who heretofore sought private holes, 
Securely in the dark to damn their souls, 



214 LICENTIOUS AGE 

Wore vizards of hypocrisy, to steal 
And sliiik away in masquerade to hell, 
Now bring their crimes into the open sun, 
For all mankind to gaze their worst upon. 
As eagles try their young against his rays. 
To prove if they 're of gen'rous breed or base ; 
Call heav'n and earth to witness how they 'v€ 

aim'd, 
With all their utmost vigour, to be damn'd. 
And by their own examples, in the view 
Of all the world, striv'd to damn others too ; 
On all occasions sought to be as civil 
As possible they could t' his grace the Devil, 
To give him no unnecessary trouble. 
Nor in small matters use a friend so noble, 
But with their constant practice done their best 
T' improve and propagate his interest : 
For men have now made vice so great an art. 
The matter of fact 's become the slightest part; 
And the debauched'st actions they can do, 
Mere trifles to the circumstance and show. 
For 'tis not what they do that 's now the sin. 
But what they lewdly' affect and glory in, 
As if prepost'rously they would profess 
A. forc'd hypocrisy of wickedness. 
And affectation, that makes good things bad, 
Must make affected shame accurs'd and mad ; 
For vices for themselves may find excuse. 
But never for their complement and shews ; 
That if there ever were a mystery 



OF CHARLES II. 215 

Of moral secular iniquity, 

And that the churches may not lose their due 

By being encroach'd upon, 'tis now, and new : 

For men are now as scrupulous and nice, 

And tender-conscienc'd of low paltry vice ; 

Disdain as proudly to be thought to have 

To do in any mischief but the brave. 

As the most scrup'lous zealot of late times 

T' appear in any but the horrid'st crimes ; 

Have as precise and strict punctilioes 

Now to appear, as then to make no shows, 

And steer the world by disagreeing force 

Of diff'rent customs 'gainst her nat'ral course : 

So pow'rful 's ill example to encroach, 

And Nature, spite of all her laws, debauch ; 

Example, that imperious dictator 

Of all that 's good or bad to human nature. 

By which the world 's corrupted and reclaim'd, 

Hopes to be sav'd. and studies to be damn'd; 

That reconciles all contrarieties. 

Makes wisdom foolishness, and folly wise, 

Imposes on divinity, and sets 

Her seal alike on truths and counterfeits ; 

Alters all characters of virtue' and vice. 

And passes one for th' other in disguise ; 

Makes all things, as it pleases, understood. 

The good receiv'd for bad, and bad for good ; 

That slyly counter-changes wrong and right. 

Like white in fields of black, and black in white ', 

As if the laws of Nature had t een made 



216 LICENTIOUS AGE 

Of purpose only to be disobey'd ; 
Or man had lost his mighty interest, 
By having been distinguish'd from a beast ; 
And had no other way but sin and vice, 
To be restor'd again to Paradise. 

How copious is our language lately grown, 
To make blaspheming wit, and a jargon ! 
And yet how expressive and significant. 
In damme at once to curse, and swear, and rant i 
As if no way express'd men's soi. Is so well, 
As damning of them to the pit ol hell ; 
Nor any asseveration were so civil. 
As mortgaging salvation to the devil ; 
Or that his name did add a charming grace, 
And blasphemy a purity to our phrase. 
For what can any language more enrich, 
Than to pay souls for vitiating speech ; 
When the great'st tyrant in the world made those 
But lick their words out that abus'd his prose? 

What trivial punishments did then protect 
To public censure a profound respect. 
When the most shameful penance, and severe, 
That could be inflicted on a Cavalier 
For infamous debauchery, was no worse. 
Than but to be degraded from his horse, 
And have his livery of oats and hay. 
Instead of cutting spurs off, tak'n away ? 
They held no torture then so great as shame, 
And that to slay was less than to defame ; 
For just so much regard as men express 



OF CHARLES II. 2J7 

To tli^ censure of the public, more or less^ 
The same will be return'd to them again, 
In shame or reputation, to a grain ; 
And, how perverse soe'er the world appears, 
'Tis just to all the bad it sees and hears ; 
And for that virtue strives to be allow'd 
For all the injuries it does the good. 

How silly were their sages heretofore. 
To fright their heroes with a syren whore ! 
Make them believe a water-witch, with charms, 
Could sink their men-of-war as easy' as storms ; 
And turn their mariners, that heard them sing, 
Into land porpoises, and cod, and ling ; 
To terrify those mighty champions. 
As we do children now with Bloodybones ; 
Until the subtlest of their conjurers 
Seal'd up the labels to his soul, his ears. 
And ty'd his deafen'd sailors (while he pass'd 
The dreadful lady's lodgings) to the mast. 
And rather venture drowning than to wrong 
The sea-pugs' chaste ears with a bawdy song: 
To b' out of countenance, and, like an ass. 
Not pledge the Lady Circe one beer-glass ; 
Unmannerly refuse her treat and wine. 
For fear of being turn'd into a swine, 
When one of our heroic adventurers now 
Would drink her down, and turn her int' a sow. 

So simple were those times, when a grave sage 
Could with an old wife's tale instruct the age ; 
Teach virtue more fantastic ways and nice. 



218 LICENTIOUS AGE OF CHARLES II. 

Than ours will now endure t' improve in vice ; 
Made a dull sentence, and a moral fable, 
Do more than all our holdings-forth are able ; 
A forc'd obscure mythology convince, 
Beyond our worst inflictions upon sins ; 
When an old proverb, or an end of verse, 
Could more than all our penal laws coerce. 
And keep men honester than all our furies 
Of jailors, judges, constables, and juries; 
Who were converted then with an old saying, 
Better than all our preaching now, and praying. 
What fops had these been had they liv'd with u?, 
Where the best reason 's made ridiculous. 
And all the plain and sober things we say, 
By raillery are put beside their play ? 
For men are grown above all knowledge now, 
And what they 're ignorant of disdain to know ; 
Engross truth (like Fanatics) underhand. 
And boldly judge before they understand ; 
The self-same courses equally advance 
In spiritual and carnal ignorance, 
And, by the same degrees of confidence, 
Become impregnable against all sense ; 
For, as they outgrew ordinances then, 
So would they now morality agen. 
Though Drudgery and Knowledge are of kin. 
And both descended from one parent. Sin, 
And therefore seldom have been known to part, 
[n tracing out the ways of Truth and Art, 
Y^et they have north-west passages to steer 



UrON GAMING. 210 

A short way to it, without pains or care ; 

For, as implicit faith is far more stiff 

Than that which understands its own belief, 

So those that think, and do but think they know, 

Are far more obstinate than those that do. 

And more averse than if they 'ad ne'er been taught 

A wrong way, to a right one to be brought ; 

Take boldness upon credit beforehand. 

And grow too positive to understand ; 

Beheve themselves as knowing and as famous, 

As if their gifts had gotten a mandamus, 

A bill of store to take up a degree. 

With all the learning to it, custom-free, 

Aoid look as big for what they bought at Court, 

As if they 'ad done their exercises for 't 



SATIRE UPON GAMING. 



What fool would trouble Fortune more, 
When she has been too kind before ; 
Or tempt her to take back again 
What she had thrown away in vain, 
By idly venturing her good graces 
To be dispos'd of by ames-aces ; 
Or settling it in trust to uses 
Out of his power, on trays and deuces ; 



220 UPON GAMING. 

To put it to the chance, and try, 
I' th' ballot of a box and die, 
"Whether his money be his own, 
And lose it, if he be o'erthrown ; 
As if he were betray'd, and set 
By his own stars to every cheat ; 
Or wretchedly condemn'd by Fate 
To throw dice for his own estate ; 
As mutineers, by fatal doom. 
Do for their lives upon a drum ? 
For what less influence can produce 
So great a monster as a chouse, 
Or any two-legg'd thing possess 
With such a brutish sottishness ? 
Unless those tutelary stars, 
Intrusted by astrologers 
To have the charge of man, combined 
To use him in the self-same kind ; 
As those that help'd them to the trus^ 
Are wont to deal with others just. 
For to become so sadly dull 
And stupid, as to fine for gull 
(Not, as in cities, to b' excus'd. 
But to be judg'd fit to be us'd), 
That whosoe'er can draw it in 
Is sure inevitably t' win, 
And, with a curs'd half-witted fate, 
To grow more dully desperate. 
The more 'tis made a common prey. 
And cheated foppishly at play, 



UPON GAMING. 221 

fs their condition ; Fate betrays 

To Folly first, and then destroys. 

For what but miracles can serve 

So great a madness to preserve, 

As his, that ventures goods and chattels 

(Where there 's no quarter given) in battles, 

And fights with money-bags as bold 

As men with sand-bags did of old ; 

Puts lands, and tenements, and stocks, 

Into a paltry juggler's box ; 

And, like an alderman of Gotham, 

Embarketh in so vile a bottom ; 

Engages blind and senseless hap 

'Gainst high, and low, and slur, and knap 

(As Tartars with a man of straw 

Encounter lions hand to paw). 

With those that never venture more 

Than they had safely' insur'd before ; 

Who, when they knock the box, and shake, 

Do, like the Indian rattle-snake. 

But strive to ruin and destroy 

Those that mistake it for fair play ; 

That have their Fulhams at command, 

Brought up to do their feats at hand, 

That understand their calls and knocks, 

And how to place themselves i' th' box ; 

Can tell the oddses of all games. 

And when to answer to their names ; 

And, when he conjures them t' appear, 

Like imps, are ready every-where : 



222 UPON GAMING. 

Wlien to play foul, and when run fair 
(Out of design) upon the square, 
And let the greedy cully win, 
Only to draw him further in ; 
While those with which he idly plays 
Have no regard to what he says, 
Although he jernie and blaspheme, 
When they miscarry, heav'n and them. 
And damn his soul, and swear, and curse, 
And crucify his Saviour worse 
Than those Jew-troopers that threw out, 
When they were raffling for his coat ; 
Denounce revenge, as if they heard. 
And rightly understood and fear'd, 
And would take heed another time. 
How to commit so bold a crime ; 
When the poor bones are innocent, 
Of all he did, or said, or meant. 
And have as little sense, almost. 
As he that damns them when he 'as lost ; 
jVs if he had rely'd upon 
Their judgment rather than his own ; 
And that it were their fault, not his. 
That manag'd them himself amiss. 
And gave them ill instructions how 
To run, as he would have them do. 
And then condemns them silhly 
For having no more wit than he ! 



TO A BAD POET. 22t 



SATIRE: TO A BAD POET. 

GrREAT famous wit ! whose rich and easy vein, 

Free, and unus'd to drudgery and pain, 

Has all Apollo's treasure at command. 

And how good verse is coin'd do'st understand, 

In all Wit's combats master of defence, 

Tell me, how dost thou pass on rhyme and sense ? 

'Tis said they' apply to thee, and in thy verse 

Do freely range themselves as volunteers, 

And without pain, or pumping for a word, 

Place themselves fitly of their own accord. 

I, whom a lewd caprich (for some great crime 

I have committed) has condemn'd to rhyme, 

With slavish obstinacy vex my brain 

To reconcile them, but, alas ! in vain. 

Sometimes I set my wits upon the rack, 

And, when I would say white, the verse says black; 

When I would draw a brave man to the life. 

It names some slave that pimps to his own wife, 

Or base poltroon, that would have sold his daughter, 

If he had met with any to have bought her. 

When I would praise an author, the untoward 

Damn'd sense says Virgil, but the rhyme — ; * 

* ' Damn'd sense says Virgil, but the rhyme — .'] This 
blank, and another at the close of the Poem, the Author evi- 
dently chose should be supplied by the reader. It is not my 
business, thei-efore, to deprive him of that satisfaction. 



22 \ TO A BAB POET. 

In fine, wliate'er I strive to bring about 

The contrary (spite of mj heart) conies out. 

Sometimes, enrag'd for time and pains misspent, 

I give it over, tir'd, and discontent, 

And, damning the dull fiend a thousand times 

By whom I was possess'd, forswear all rhymes ; 

But, having curs'd the Muses, they appear, 

To be reveng'd for 't, ere I am aware. 

Spite of myself, I strait take fire agen, 

Fall to my task with paper, ink, and pen, 

And, breaking all the oaths I made, in vain 

From verse to verse expect their aid again. 

But, if my Muse or I were so di&creet 

T' endure, for rhyme's sake, one dull epithet, 

I might, like others, easily command 

Words without study, ready and at hand. 

In praising Chloris, moons, and stars, and skies, 

Are quickly made to match her face and eyes — 

And gold and rubies, with as little care, 

To fit the colour of her lips and hair ; 

And, mixing suns, and flowers, and pearl, and stones 

Make them serve all complexions at once. 

With these fine fancies, at hap-hazard writ, 

I could make verses without art or wit, 

And, shifting forty times the verb and noun- 

With stol'n impertinence patch up mine own : 

13 ut in the choice of words my scrupulous wit 

Is fearful to pass one that is unfit ; 

Nor can endure to fill up a void place. 

At a line's end, with one insipid phrase ; 



TO A BAD POET. 225 

And, therefore, when I scribble twenty times, 

>Ylien I have written four, I blot two rhymes. 

May he be damn'd who first found out that curse, 

T' imprison and confine his thoughts in verse ; 

To hang so dull a clog upon his wit. 

And make his reason to his rhyme submit ! 

Without this plague, I freely might have spent 

My happy days with leisure and content ; 

Had nothing in the world to do or think, 

Like a fat priest, but whore, and eat, and drink ; 

Had past my time as pleasantly away. 

Slept all the night, and loiter'd all the day. 

My soul, that 's free from care, and fear, and hope, 

Knows how to make her own ambition stoop, 

T' avoid uneasy greatness and resort. 

Or for preferment following the Court. 

How happy had I been if, for a curse. 

The Fates had never sentenc'd me to verse ! 

But, ever since this peremptory vein. 

With restless frenzy, first possess'd my brain. 

And that the devil tempted me, in spite 

Of my own happiness, to judge and write, 

Shut up against my will, I waste my age 

In mending this, and blotting out that page, 

And grow so weary of the slavish trade, 

I envy their condition that write bad. 

happy Scudery ! whose easy quill 

Can, once a month, a mighty volume fill ; 

For, though thy works are written in despite 

Of all good sense, impertinent, and slight, 

VOL. II. 15 



226 TO A BAD POET. 

They never have been known to stand in need 
Of stationer to sell, or sot to read; 
For, so the rhyme be at the verse's end, 
No matter whither all the rest does tend. 
Unhappy is that man who, spite of 's heart, 
Is fore'd to be ty'd up to rules of art. 
A fop that scribbles does it with delight. 
Takes no pains to consider what to write, 
But, fond of all the nonsense he brings forth, 
Is ravish'd with his own great wit and worth ; 
"While brave and noble writers vainly strive 
To such a height of glory to arrive ; 
But, still with all they do unsatisfy'd, 
Ne'er please themselves, though all the world be- 
side: 
And those whom all mankind admire for wit, 
"Wish, for their own sakes, they had never writ. 
Thou, then, that see'st how ill I spend my time, 
Teach me, for pity, how to make a rhyme ; 
And, if th' instructions chance to prove in vain, 
Teach how ne'er to write again. 



IMITATION OF THE FRENCH. 221 



SATIRE 

UPON OUR RIDICULOUS IMITATION OF 
THE FRENCH.* 

Who would not rather get him gone 

Beyond th' intolerablest zone, 

Or steer his passage through those seas 

That burn in flames, or those that freeze, 

Than see one nation go to school. 

And learn of another, like a fool ? 

To study all its tricks and fashions 

With epidemic affectations, 

And dare to wear no mode or dress, 

But what the J in their wisdom please ; 

As monkeys are, by being taught 

To put on gloves and stockings, caught ; 

Submit to all that they devise, 

As if it wore their liveries ; 

Make ready' and dress th' imagination. 

Not with the clothes, but with the fashion ; 

And change it, to fulfil the curse 

Of Adam's fall, for new, though worse ; 



* The object of this satire was that extravagant and ridicu 
lous imitation of the French which prevailed in Charles II. 'd 
reign, partly owing to the connection and intercourse which the 
politics of those times obliged us to have with that nation, and 
partly to our eager desire of avoiding the formal and precise 
zravity of the hypocritical age th it preceded 



228 RIDICULOUS IMITATION 

To make their breeches fall and rise 
From middle legs to middle thighs, 
The tropi ;s between which the hose 
Move always as the fashion goes : 
Sometimes wear hats like pyramids, 
And sometimes flat, hke pipkins' lids ; 
"With broad brims, sometimes, like umbrellas, 
And sometimes narrow' as Punchinello's : 
In coldest weather go unbrac'd, 
And close in hot, as if th' were lac'd ; 
Sometimes with sleeves and bodies wide, 
And sometimes straiter than a hide : 
Wear perukes, and with false grey hairs 
Disguise ths true ones, and their years ; 
That, when they 're modish, with the young 
The old may seem so in the throng ; 
And, as some pupils have been known 
In time to put their tutors down. 
So ours are often found to 'ave got 
More tricks than ever they were taught ; 
"With sly intrigues and artifices 
Usurp their poxes and their vices ; 
With garnitures upon their shoes. 
Make good their claim to gouty toes ; 
By sudden starts, and shrugs, and groans. 
Pretend to aches in their bones, 
To scabs and botches, and lay trains 
To prove their running of the reins ; 
And, lest they should seem destitute 
Of any mange that 's in repute, 



OP THE FRENCH. 229 

And be behindhand with the mode, 

Will swear to crystallin and node ; 

And, that they may not lose their right, 

Make it appear how they came by 't : 

Disdain the country where they' were born, 

As bastards their own mothers scorn. 

And that which brought them forth contemn. 

As it deserves, for bearing them ; 

Admire whate'er they find abroad, 

But nothing here, though e'er so good • 

Be natives wheresoe'er they come, 

And only foreigners at home ; 

To which they' appear so far estrang'd. 

As if they 'ad been i' th' cradle chang'd, 

Or from beyond the seas convey'd 

By witches — not born here, but laid ; 

Or by outlandish fathers were 

Begotten on their mothers here. 

And therefore justly slight that nation 

Where they 've so mongrel a relation ; 

And seek out other climates, where 

They may degen'rate less than here ; 

As woodcocks, when their plumes are grown, 

Borne on the wind's wings and their own. 

Forsake the countries where they 're hatch'd, 

And seek out others to be catch'd ; 

So they more naturally may please 

And humour their own geniuses. 

Apply to all things which they see 

With their own fancies best agrea ; 



280 RIDICULOUS IMITATION 

No matter how ridiculous, 

'Tis all one, if it be in use ; 

For nothing can be bad or good, 

But as 'tis in or out of mode ; 

And, as the nations are that use it, 

All ought to practise or refuse it ; 

T' observe their postures, move, and stiuid, 

As they give out the word o' command; 

To learn the dullest of their whims, 

And how to wear their very limbs ; 

To turn and manage every part, 

Like puppets, by their rules of art ; 

To shrug discreetly, act, and tread^ 

And politicly shake the head. 

Until the ignorant (that guess 

At all things by th' appearances) 

To see how Art and Nature strive, 

Believe them really alive, 

And that they 're very men, not things 

That move by puppet-work and springs ; 

When truly all their feats have been 

As well perform'd by motion-men, 

4nd the worst drolls of Punchinelloes 

Were much th' ingeniouser fellows ; 

For, when they 're perfect in their lesson, 

Th' hypothesis grows out of season. 

And, all their labour lost, they 're fain 

To learn new, and begin again ; 

To talk eternally and loud. 

And altogether in a crowd, 



l 



OP THE FRENCH. 231 

No matter what ; for in the noise 

No man minds what another says : 

T* assume a confidence beyond 

Mankind, for solid and profound, 

And still the less and less they know, 

The greater dose of that allow : 

Decry all things ; for to be wise 

Is not to know but to despise ; 

And deep judicious confidence 

Has still the odd^ of wit and sense, 

And can pretend a title to 

Far greater things than they can do : 

T* adorn their English with French scraps. 

And give their very language claps ; 

To jernie rightly, and renounce 

r th' pure and most approv'd-of tones, 

And, while they idly think t' enrich. 

Adulterate their native speech : 

For though to smatter ends of Greek 

Or Latin be the rhetoric 

Of pedants counted, and vain-glorious. 

To smatter French is meritorious ; 

And to forget their mother-tongue, 

Or purposely to speak it wrong, 

A hopeful sign of parts and wit. 

And that they' improve and benefit; 

4s those that have been taugh^, amiss 

In liberal arts and sciences, 

Must all they 'ad learnt before in vain 

Forget quite, and begin again. 



232 UPON DRUNKENNESS. 



SATIRE UPON DRUNKENNESS 

*Tis pity wine, which Nature meant 

To man in kindness to present, 

And gave him kindly, to caress 

And cherish his frail happiness, 

Of equal virtue to renew 

His weary'd mind and body too. 

Should (like the cyder-tree in Eden, 

Which only grew to be forbidden) 

No sooner come to be enjoy'd. 

But th' owner 's fatally destroy'd ; 

And that which she for good designed 

Becomes the ruin of mankind, 

That for a httle vain excess 

Runs out of all its happiness. 

And makes the friend of Truth and Love 

Their greatest adversary prove; 

T' abuse a blessing she bestow'd 

So truly' essential to his good, 

To countervail his pensive cares, 

And slavish drudg'ry of affairs ; 

To teach him judgment, wit, and sense, 

And, more than all these, confidence ; 

To pass his times of recreation 

In choice and noble conversation, 

Catch truth and reason unawares, 

As men do health in wholesome airs 



UPON DRUNKENNESS. 233 

("While fools their conversants possess, 

As unawares, with sottishness) ; 

To gain access a private way 

To man's best sense, by its own key, 

Which painful judges strive in vain 

By any other course t' obtain ; 

To pull off all disguise, and view 

Things as they 're natural and true ; 

Discover fools and knaves, allow'd 

For wise and honest in the crowd ; 

"With innocent and virtuous sport 

Make short days long, and long nights short, 

And mirth the only antidote 

Against diseases ere they 're got ; 

To save health harmless from th' access 

Both of the med'cine and disease ; 

Or make it help itself, secure 

Against the desperat'st fit, the cure. 

All these sublime prerogatives 
Of happiness to human Hves, 
He vainly throws away, and slights 
For madness, noise, and bloody fights ; 
When nothing can decide, but swords 
And pots, the right or wrong of words, 
Like princes' titles ; and he 's outed 
The justice of his cause, that 's routed. 

No sooner has a charge been sounded 
With ' Son of a whore,' and ' Damn'd confounded, 
And the bold signal giv'n, the lie, 
But instantly the bottles fly, 



234 UPON DRUNKENNESS. 

Where cups and glasses are small shot. 

And cannon-ball a pewter pot : 

That blood, that 's hardly in the vein, 

Is now remanded back again ; 

Though sprung from wine of the same piece. 

And near a-kin within degrees, 

Strives to commit assassinations 

On its own natural relations ; 

And those twin-spirits, so kind-hearted, 

That from their friends so lately parted, 

No sooner several ways are gone, 

But by themselves are set upon, 

Surpris'd like brother against brother, 

And put to th' sword by one another ; 

So much more fierce are civil wars. 

Than those between mere foreigners ; 

And man himself, with wine possest, 

More savage than the wildest beast. 

For serpents, when they meet to water, 

Lay by their poison and their nature ; 

And fiercest creatures, that repair, 

In thirsty deserts, to their rare 

And distant rivers* banks to drink. 

In love and close alliance Hnk, 

And from their mixture of strange seeds 

Produce new never-heard-of breeds, 

To whom the fiercer unicorn 

Begins a large health with his horn ; 

As cuckolds put their antidotes. 

When they drink coffee, into th' pots : 



UPON DRUNKENNESS. 235 

WTiile man, with raging drink inflam'd, 

Is far more savage and untam'd ; 

Supplies his loss of wit and sense 

With barb'rousness and insolence ; 

Believes himself, the less he 's able, 

The more heroic and formidable ; 

Lajs by his reason in his bowls, 

As Turks are said to do their souls, 

Until it has so often been 

Shut out of its lodging, and let in, 

At length it never can attain 

To find the right way back again ; 

Drinks all his time away, and prunes 

The end of 's life, as Vignerons 

Cut short the branches of a vine, 

To make it bear more plenty o' wine ; 

And that which Nature did intend 
T' enlarge his life, perverts t' its end. 
So Noah, when he anchor'd safe on 
The mountain's top, his lofty haven, 
And all the passengers he bore 
Were on the new world set ashore, 
He made it next his chief design 
To plant and propagate a vine, 
Which since has overwhelm'd and drownM 
Far greater numbers, on dry ground, 
Of wretched mankind, one by one. 
Than all the flood before had done. 



236 UPON MARRIAGE, 



SATIRE UPON MARRIAGE. 

Sure marriages were never so well fitted, 
As when to matrimony' men were committed, 
Like thieves by justices, and to a wife 
Bound, like to good behaviour, during life : 
For then 'twas but a civil contract made 
Between two partners that set up a trade ; 
And if both fail'd, there was no conscience 
Nor faith invaded in the strictest sense ; 
No canon of the church, nor vow, was broke 
When men did free their gall'd necks from the yoke 
But when they tir'd, like other homed beasts, 
Might have it taken off, and take their rests. 
Without b'ing bound in duty to shew cause. 
Or reckon with divine or human laws. 

For since, what use of matrimony* has been 
But to make gallantry a greater sin ? 
As if there were no appetite nor gust. 
Below adultery, in modish lust ; 
Or no debauchery were exquisite. 
Until it has attain'd its perfect height. 
For men do now take wives to nobler ends, 
Not to bear children, but to bear them friends ; 
Whom nothing can oblige at such a rate 
As these endearing offices of late. 
For men are now grown wise, and understand 
How to improve their crimes, as well as land ; 



UPON MARRIAGE. 237 

Md if they Ve issue, make the infants paj 

Down for their own begetting on the day, 

The charges of the gossiping disburse, 

And pay beforehand (ere they 're born) the nurse ; 

As he that got a monster on a cow, 

Out of design of setting up a show. 

For why should not the brats for aU account, 

As well as for the christ'ning at the fount. 

When those that stand for them lay down the rate 

O' th' banquet and the priest in spoons and plate ? 

The ancient Romans made the state allow 
For getting all men's children above two : 
Then married men, to propagate the breed. 
Had great rewards for what they never did, 
Were privileg'd, and highly honour'd too. 
For owning what their friends were fam to do ; 
For so they 'ad children, they regarded not 
By whom (good men) or how they were begot. 
To borrow wives (Hke money) or to lend, 
Was then the civil office of a friend. 
And he that made a scruple in the case 
Was held a miserable wretch and base ; 
For when they 'ad children by them, th' honest men 
Return'd them to their husbands back again. 
Then for th' encouragement and propagation 
Of such a great concernment to the nation, 
AU people were so full of complacence, 
And civil duty to the public sense. 
They had no name t' express a cuckold then, 
But that which signified all married men ; 



2J8 UPON MARRIAGE. 

Nor was the thing accounted a disgrace, 

Unless among the dirty populace, 

And no man understands on what account 

Less civil nations after hit upon 't : 

For to be known a cuckold can be no 

Dishonour but to him that thinks it so ; 

For if he feel no chagrin or remorse. 

His forehead 's shot-free, and he 's ne'er the worse 

For horns (like horny calluses) are found 

To grow on skulls that have receiv'd a wound, 

Are crackt, and broken ; not at all on those 

That are invulnerate and free from blows. 

What a brave time had cuckold-makers then, 

When they were held the worthiest of men. 

The real fathers of the commonwealth. 

That planted colonies in Rome itself? 

When he that help'd his neighbours, and begot 

Most Romans, was the noblest patriot ? 

For if a brave man, that preserv'd from death 

One citizen, was honour'd with a wreath, 

He that more gallantly got three or four, 

In reason must deserve a great deal more. 

Then if those glorious worthies of old Rome, 

That civiliz'd the world they 'ad overcome, 

And taught it laws and learning, found this way 

The best to save their empire from decay. 

Why should not these that borrow all the worth 

They have from them not take this lesson forth, 

bret children, friends, and honour too, and monej 

By prudent managing of matrimony ? 



UrON MARRIAGE. 239 

For if 'tis hon'rable by all confest, 

Aclult'rj must be worshipful at least, 

And these times great, when private men are come 

Up to the height and politic of Rome. 

All by-blows were not only free-born then, 

But, hke John Lilburn, free-begotten men ; 

Had equal right and privilege with these 

That claim by title right of the four seas : 

For bemg in marriage born, it matters not 

After what liturgy they were begot; 

And if there be a difference, they have 

Th' advantage of the chance in proving brave, 

By being engender'd with more life and force 

Than those begotten the dull way of course. 

The Chinese place all piety and zeal 
In serving with their wives the commonweal ; 
Fix all their hopes of merit and salvation 
Upon their women's supererogation ; 
With solemn vows their wives and daughters bind, 
Like Eve in Paradise, to all mankind ; 
And those that can produce the most gallants. 
Are held the preciousest of all their saints ; 
Wear rosaries about their necks, to con 
Their exercises of devotion on ; 
That serve them for certificates, to show 
With what vast numbers they have had to do : 
Before they 're marry'd make a conscience 
T' omit no duty of incontinence ; 
And she that has been oft'nest prostituted, 
Is worthy of the greatest match reputed. 



2iO UPON PLAGIARIES. 

But when the conqu'ring Tartar went about 
To root this orthodox reUgion out, 
They stood for conscience, and resolv'd to die, 
Rather than change the ancient purity 
Of that religion which their ancestors 
And they had prospered in so many years ; 
Vow'd to their gods to sacrifice their lives, 
And die their daughters' martyrs and their wives 
Before they would commit so great a sin 
Against the faith they had been bred up in. 



SATIRE UPON PLAGIARIES * 

Why should the world be so averse 
To plagiary privateers, 
That all men's sense and fancy seize. 
And make free prize of what they please ? 

* It is not improbable but that Butler, in this satire, oi 
sneering apology for the plagiary, obliquely hints at Sir Johc 
Dsnham, whom he has directly attacked in a preceding poem 

Butler was not pleased with the two first hues of this com 
|x>sition, as appears by his altering them in the mar^n, thus : 

Why should the world be so severe 
To every small-wit privateer? 

And indeed the alteration is much for the better; but as it 
would not connect grammatically with what follows, it Is no^ 
here adopted. 



UPON PLAGIARIES. 241 

As if, because they huff and swell, 
Like piir'rers, full of what they steal, 
Others might equal pow'r assume, 
To pay them with as hard a doom ; 
To shut them up, like beasts in pounds. 
For breaking into others' grounds ; 
Mark them with characters and brands, 
Like other forgers of men's hands. 
And in effigy hang and draw 
The poor delinquents by club-law, 
When no indictment justly lies, 
But where the theft will bear a price. 

For though wit never can be learn'd. 
It may b' assum'd, and own'd, and earned. 
And, like our noblest fruits, improv'd. 
By b'ing transplanted and remov'd ; 
Ajid as it bears no certain rate. 
Nor pays one penny to the state, 
With which it turns no more t' account 
Than virtue, faith, and merit 's wont. 
Is neither moveable, nor rent. 
Nor chattel, goods, nor tenement, 
Nor was it ever pass'd b' entail, 
Nor settled upon heirs-male ; 
Or if it were, like ill-got land. 
Did never fall t' a second hand ; 
So 'tis no more to be engross'd. 
Than sun-shine or the air inclos'd, 
Or to proprietary confin'd. 
Than th' uncontroll'd a'ld scatter'd wind. 

'w^OI.. IT. 16 



245{ UPOK PLAGIARIES. 

For why should that which Nature meant 
To owe its being to its vent, 
That has no value of its own 
But as it is divulg'd and known, 
Is perishable and destroy'd 
As long as it lies unenjoy'd. 
Be scanted of that lib'ral use 
Which all mankind is free to choose, 
And idly hoarded where 'twas bred. 
Instead of being dispers'd and spread ? 
And the more lavish and profuse, 
'Tis of the nobler general use ; 
As riots, though supply 'd by stealth, 
Are wholesome to the commonwealth, 
And men spend freelier what they win, 
Than what they 've freely coming in. 

The world 's as full of curious wit 
"Which those that father never writ, 
As 'tis of bastards, which the sot 
And cuckold owns that ne'er begot ; 
Yet pass as well as if the one 
A.nd th' other by-blow were their own» 
For why should he that 's impotent 
To judge, and fancy, and invent. 
For that impediment be stopt 
To own, and challenge, and adopt, 
At least th' expos'd and fatherless 
Poor orphans of the pen and press, 
Whose parents are obscure or dead. 
Or in far c»untries born and bred? 



UPON rLACIAKIES. Jl^ 

A.s none but kings have pow'r to raise 
A levy, wliioli the subject pays, 
And though they call that tax a loan, 
Yet when 'tis gather'd 'tis their own ; 
So he that 's able to impose 
A wit-excise on verse or prose, 
And still the abler authors are 
Can make them pay the greater share, 
Is prince of poets of his time. 
And they his vassals that supply' him ; 
Can judge more justly' of what he takes 
Than any of the best he makes. 
And more impartially conceive 
What 's fit to choose, and what to leave. 
For men reflect more strictly' upon 
The sense of others than their own ; 
And wit, that 's made of wit and ?lcight, 
Is richer than the plain do'VAiiright : 
As salt that 's made of salt 's more fine 
Than when it first came from the brine, 
And spirits of a nobler nature 
Drawn from the dull ingredient matter. 

Hence mighty Virgil 's said, of old, 
From dung to have extracted gold 
\As many a lout and silly clown 
By his instructions since has done), 
And grew more lofty by that means 
Than by his livery-oats and beans. 
When from his carts and country farms 
He rose a mighty man a/ arms, 



244 UPON PLAGIARIE8. 

To whom th' Heroics ever since 
Have sworn allegiance as their prince, 
And faithfully have in all times 
Observed his customs in their rhymes. 

'Twas counted learning once, and wit, 
To void but what some author writ, 
And what men understood by rote. 
By as implicit sense to quote : 
Then many a magisterial clerk 
"Was taught, like singing birds, i' th' dark, 
And understood as much of things. 
As th' ablest blackbird what it sings ; 
And yet was honour'd and renown'd 
For grave, and solid, and profound. 
Then why should those who pick and choose 
The best of all the best compose. 
And join it by Mosaic art. 
In graceful order, part to part, 
To make the whole in beauty suit, 
Not merit as complete repute 
As those who with less art and pains 
Can do it with their native brains, 
-^Vnd make the home-spun business fit 
A.S freely with their mother wit. 
Since what by Nature was deny'd. 
By art and industry 's supply'd. 
Both which are more our own, and brave, 
Than all the alms that Nature gave ? 
For what w' acquire by pains and art 
Is only due t' our own desert; 



UPON PLAGIARIES. ?45 

While all the endowments she confers, 
Are not so much our own as hers, 
That, like good fortune, unawares. 
Fall not t' our virtue, but our shares, 
And all we can pretend to merit 
We do not purchase, but inherit. 

Thus all the great'st inventions, when 
Thej first were found out, were so mean, 
That th' authors of them are unknown. 
As little things they scorn'd to own ; 
Until by men of nobler thought 
They' were to their full perfection brought 
This proves that Wit does but rough-hew 
Leaves Art to polish and review, 
And that a wit at second hand 
Has greatest int'rest and command ; 
For to improve, dispose, and judge. 
Is nobler than t' invent and drudsre. 
Invention 's humorous and nice, 
And never at command applies ; 
Disdains t' obey the proudest wit, 
Unless it chance to b' in the fit 
(Like prophecy, that can presage 
Successes of the latest ajre. 
Yet is not able to tell when 
It next shall prophesy agen) : 
Makes all her suitors course and wait 
Like a proud minister of state. 
And, when she 's serious, in some freak 
Extravagant, and vain, and weak, 
Attend her siUy lazy pleasure, 



246 UPON PLAGIARIES. 

Until she chance to be at leisure ; 

"When 'tis more easy to steal wit, 

To clip, and forge, and counterfeit, 

Is both the business and delight. 

Like hunting-sports, of those that write ; 

For thievery is but one sort. 

The learned say, of hunting-sport. 

Hence 'tis that some, who set up first 
As raw, and wretched, and unverst, 
And open'd with a stock as poor 
As a healthy beggar with one sore 
That never writ in prose or verse, 
But pick'd, or cut it, like a purse, 
And at the best could but commit 
The petty-larceny of wit, 
To whom to write was to purloin, 
And printing but to stamp false coin ; 
Yet after long and sturdy endeavours 
Of being painful wit-receivers. 
With gath'ring rags and scraps of wit, 
As paper's made on which 'tis writ, 
ITave gone forth authors, and acquir'd 
The right — or wrong to be admir'd. 
And, arm'd with confidence, incurr'd 
The fool's good luck, to be preferr'd. 
For as a banker can dispose 
Of greater sums he only owes. 
Than he who honestly is known 
To deal in nothing but his own. 
So whosoe'er can take up most. 
May greatest fame and credit boast. 



ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING. 247 



SATIRE 

IN TWO PARTS, UPON THE IMPERFECTION ANP 
ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING.* 

PART I. 

Tt is the noblest act of human reason 
To free itself from slavish prepossession, 
A^ssume the le":al risfht to disengrajre 
From all it had contracted under age, 
And not its ingenuity and wit 
To all it was imbued with first submit ; 
Take true or false, for better or for worse, 
To have or t' hold indifferently of course. 

* In the large Genei"al Dictionary, or Bayle's enlarged by 
Mr. Bernard, Birch, and Lockman, we are told by the learned 
editors, under the article ' Hudibras,' that they were personal- 
ly informed by the late Mr. Longueville — That amongst the 
genuine remains of Butler, which were in his hands, there was 
a poem, entitled 'The History of Learning.' To the same 
purpose is the following passage cited from ' The Poetical Re- 
gister,' vol. ii. p. 21. — " In justice to the public, it is thought 
proper to declare, that all the manuscripts ^Ir. Butler left be- 
hind him are now in the custody of Mr. Longueville (among 
which is one, entitled ' The History of Learning,' written after 
.'he manner of Hudibras), and that not one line of those poems 
*ately published under his name is genuine." 

As these authorities must have given the world reason to 
expect, in this Work, a poem of this sort, it necomes necessa- 
ry to infoiTn the publi i that Butler did meditate a pretty long 
satire upon the imperfection and abuse of Human Learning, 



248 UPON THE ABUSE 

For custom, though but usher of the school 
Where Nature breeds the body and the soul, 
Usurps a greater pow'r and interest 
O'er man, the heir of Reason, than brute beast, 
Tnat by two different instincts is led. 
Born to the one, and to the other bred. 
And trains him up with rudiments more false 
Than Nature does her stupid animals ; 
And that 's one reason why more care 's bestow'd 
Upon the body than the soul 's allow'd. 
That is not found to understand and know 
So subtly as the body 's found to grow. 

Tho' children without study, pains, or thought, 
Are languages and vulgar notions taught, 

but that he only finished this first part of it, though he has left 
very considerable and interesting fragments of the remainder, 
some of which are subjoined. 

The Poet's plan seems to have consisted of two parts; the 
first, which he has executed, is to expose the defects of Hu- 
man Learning, from the wrong methods of education, from the 
natural imperfeStion of the human mind, and from that over- 
eagerness of men to know things above the reach of human 
capacity. The second, as far as one can judge by the ' Re- 
mains,' and intended parts of it, was to have exemplified what 
he has asserted in the first, and ridiculed and satirized the 
different branches of Human Learning, in characterizing the 
philosopher, critic, oratoi*, &c. 

Mr. Longueville might be led, by this, into the mistake of 
calling this work ' A History of Learning ; ' or perhaps it might 
arise from Butler's having, in one plan, which he afterwards 
altered, begun with these two fines, 

The history of learning is so lame, 

That few can tell from whence at first it came. 



OF HUMAN LEARNING. 240 

Improve their nat'ral talents without care, 

And apprehend before they are aware, , 

Yet as all strangers never leave the tones 

They have been us'd of children to pronounce, 

So most men's reason never can outgrow 

The discipline it first receiv'd to know, 

But renders words they first began to con. 

The end of all that 's after to be known, 

And sets the help of education back, 

Worse than, without it, man could ever lack ; 

Who, therefore, finds the artificial'st fools 

Have not been chang'd i' th' cradle but the schools 

Where error, pedantry, and affectation. 

Run them behind-hand with their education, 

And all alike are taught poetic rage. 

When hardly one 's fit for it in an age. 

No sooner are the organs of the brain, 
Quick to receive, and steadfast to retain 
Best knowledges, but all 's laid out upon 
Retrieving of the curse of Babylon. 
To make confounded languages restore 
A greater drudg'ry than it barr'd before : 
And therefore those imported from the East, 
Where first they were incurr'd, are held the best, 
Although convey'd in worse Arabian pot-hooks 
Than gifted tradeirmen scratch in sermon note* 

books ; 
Are really but pains and labour lost, 
And not worth half the drudgery they cost. 
Unless., like rarities, as they 've been brought 



B50 UPON THE ABUSE 

From foreign climates, and as dearly bought, 
When those who had no other but their own, 
Have all succeeding eloquence outdone ; 
As men that wink with one eye see more true, 
And take their aim much better than with two : 
For the more languages a man can speak, 
His talent has but sprung the greater leak ; 
And for the industry he 'as spent upon 't, 
Must full as much some other way discount. 
The Hebrew, Chaldee, and the Syriac, 
Do, like their letters, set men's reason back, 
And turn their wits that strive to understand it, 
(Like those that write the characters) left-handed 
Yet he that is but able to express 
No sense at all in several languages. 
Will pass for learneder than he that 's known 
To speak the strongest reason in his own. 
These are the modern arts of education. 
With all the learned of mankind in fashion, 
But practised only with the rod and whip, 
As riding-schools inculcate horsemanship ; 
Or Romish penitents let out their skins. 
To bear the penalties of others' sins. 
When letters, at the first, were meant to play. 
And only us'd to pass the time away. 
When th' ancient Greeks and Romans had no 

name 
To express a school and playhouse, but the same, 
And in their languages so long agone, 
To study or be idle was all one ; 



OF HUMAN LEARNING. 25i 

For notliiiig more preserves men in their wits, 

Then giving of them leave to play by fits. 

In dreams to sport, and ramble witli all fancies. 

And waking, Kttle less extravagances. 

The rest and recreation of tir'd thought, 

When 'tis run dowii with care and overwrought, 

Of which whoever does not freely take 

His constant share, is never broad awake, 

And when he wants an equal competence 

Of both recruits, abates as much of sense. 

Nor is their education worse design'd 
Than Nature (in her province) proves unkind : 
The greatest inclinations with the least 
Capacities are fatally possest, 
Condemn'd to drudge, and labour, and take paina 
Without an equal competence of brains ; 
While those she has indulg'd in soul and body, 
Are most averse to industry and study, 
And th' activ'st fancies share as loose alloys, 
For want of equal weight to counterpoise. 
But when those great conveniences meet, 
Of equal judgment, industry, and wit, 
The one but strives the other to divert. 
While Fate and Custom in the feud take part, 
And scholars by prepost'rous over-doing. 
And under-judging, all their projects ruin : 
Who, though the understanding of mankind 
Within so strait a compass is confin'd, 
Disdain the limits Nature sets to bound 
The wit of man, an(? vainly rove beyond. 



252 UPON THE A.BUSE 

The bravest soldiers scorn, until they 're got 
Close to the enemy, to make a shot ; 
Yet great philosophers delight to stretch 
Their talents most at things beyond their reach. 
And proudly think t' unriddle ev'ry cause 
That Nature uses, by their own bye-laws ; 
When 'tis not only' impertinent, but rude, 
"Where she denies admission, to intrude ; 
And all their industry is but to err, 
Unless they have free quarantine from her ; 
Whence 'tis the world the less has understood, 
By striving to know more than 'tis allow'd. 

For Adam, with the loss of Paradise, 
Bought knowledge at too desperate a price, 
And ever since that miserable fate 
Learning did never cost an easier rate ; 
For though the most divine and sov'reign good 
That Nature has upon mankind bestow'd, 
Yet it has prov'd a greater hinderance 
To th' interest of truth than ignorance, 
And therefore never bore so high a value 
As when 'twas low, contemptible, and shallow ; 
Had academies, schools, and colleges, 
Endow'd for its improvement and increase ; 
With pomp and show was introduc'd with maceS| 
More than a Roman magistrate had fasces ; 
Impower'd with statute, privilege, and mandate, 
T assume an art, and after understand it; 
Like bills of store for taking a degree, 
With all the learning to it custom-free ; 



OF HUMAN LEARNING. 253 

A.nd own professions, which they never took 

So much dehght in as to read one book ; 

Like princes, had prerogative to give 

Convicted malefactors a reprieve ; 

And having but a little paltry wit 

More than the world, reduc'd and govern'd it ; 

But scorn'd as soon as 'twas but understood, 

As better is a spiteful foe to good, 

And now has nothing left for its support, 

-But what the darkest times provided for 't. 

Man has a natural desire to know. 
But th' one half is for int'rest, th' other show : 
As scriveners take more pains to learn the sleight 
Of making knots, than all the hands they write : 
So all his study is not to extend 
The bounds of knowledge, but some vainer end ; 
T' appear and pass for learned, though his claim 
Will hardly reach beyond the empty name : 
For most of those that drudge and labour hard, 
Furnish their understandings by the yard, 
As a French library by the whole is 
So much an ell for quartos and for folios ; 
To which they are but indexes themselves. 
And understand no further than the shelves ; 
But smatter with their titles and editions, 
And place them in their classical partitions ; 
When all a student knows of what he reads 
Is not in 's own, but under general heads 
Of common-places, not in his own pow'r, 
But, like a Dutchman's money, i' the cantore, 



254 UrON THE ABUSE 

Where all he can make of it at the best, 
Is hardly three per cent for interest ; 
And whether he will ever get it out 
Into his own possession is a doubt : 
Affects all books of past and modern ages, 
But reads no further than their title-pages. 
Only to con the authors' names by rote, 
Or, at the best, those of the books they quote, 
Enough to challenge intimate acquaintance 
With all the learned Moderns and the Ancients 
As Roman noblemen were wont to greet, 
And compliment the rabble in the street, 
Had nomenclators in their trains, to claim 
Acquaintance with the meanest by his name. 
And by so mean contemptible a bribe 
Trepann'd the suffrages of every tribe ; 
So learned men, by authors' names unknown, 
Have gain'd no small improvement to their own, 
And he 's esteem'd the learned'st of all others, 
That ha3 the largest catalogue of authors. 



OP HUMAN LEARNING. 25 J 



FRAGMENTS 

OF AN INTENDED SECOND PART OF THE 
FOREGOING SATIRE. 

Men's talents grow more bold and confident, 
The further they 're beyond their just extent, 
As smatt'rers prove more arrogant and pert, 
The less they truly understand an art ; 
And, where they 'ave least capacity to doubt. 
Are wont t' appear most perempt'ry and stout ; 
While those that know the mathematic lines 
Where Nature all the wit of man confines, 
And when it keeps within its bounds, and where 
It acts beyond the limits of its sphere, 
Enjoy an absoluter free command 
O'er all they have a right to understand. 
Than those that falsely venture to encroach 
Where Nature has deny'd them all approach ; 



These 'Fragments' were fairly written out, and several 
times, with some little variations, transcribed by Butler, but 
never connected, or reduced into any regular form. They 
may be considered as the principal parts of a curious edifice, 
each separately finished, but not united into one general de- 
sign. 

From these the reader may foi*m a notion and tolerable idea 
of our author's intended scheme, and will regret that he did 
not apply himself to the finishing of a sathe so well suited to 
iis judgaient and particular turn of wit. 



256 FRAGMENTS UPON THE 

And still the more they strive to understand, 
Like great estates, run furthest behind-hand ; 
WiU undertake the universe to fathom, 
From infinite down to a single atom, 
Without a geometric instrument, 
To take their own capacity's extent ; 
Can tell as easy how the world was made 
As if they had been brought up to the. trade, 
And whether Chance, Necessity, or Matter, 
Contriv'd the whole establishment of Nature ; 
When all their wits to understand the world 
Can never tell why a pig's tail is curl'd, 
Or give a rational account why fish, 
That always use to drink, do never piss. 

What mad fantastic gambols have been play'd 
By th' ancient Greek forefathers of the trade. 
That were not much inferior to the freaks 
Of all our lunatic fanatic sects ? 
The first and best philosopher of Athens 
Was crack t, and ran stark-staring mad wilh pa- 
tience. 
And had no other way to show his wit. 
But when his Fife was in her scolding fit ; 
Was after in the Pagan inquisition, 
And sufi*er'd martyrdom for no religion. 
Next him, his scholar, striving to expel 
All poets his poetic commonweal, 
Exil'd himself, and all his followers, 
Notorious poets, only bating verse. 



ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING. 257 

The Stagyrite, unable to expound 

The Euripus, leapt into 't, and was drown'd ; 

So he that put his eyes out, to consider 

And contemplate on nat'ial things the steadier, 

Did but himself for idiot convince, 

Though reverenc'd by the learned ever since. 

Empedocles, to be esteem'd a god, 

Leapt into ^tna, with his sandals shod. 

That b'ing blown out, discover'd what an ass 

The great philosopher and juggler was, 

That to his own new deity sacrific'd, 

And was himself the victim and the priest. 

The Cynic coin'd false money, and for fear 

Of being hang'd for 't, turn'd philosopher; 

Yet with his lantern went, by day, to find 

One honest man i' th' heap of all mankmd ; 

An idle freak he needed not have done. 

If he had known himself to be but one. 

"With swarms of maggots of the self-same rate, 

The learned of all ages celebrate ; 

Things that are properer for Knightsbridge college, 

Than th' authors and originals of knowledge ; 

More sottish than the two fanatics, trying 

To mend the world by laughing or by crying; 

Or he that laugh'd until he chok'd his whistle. 

To rally on an ass that ate a thistle ; 

That th' antique sage, that was gallant t' a goose, 

A fitter mistress could not pick and choose, 

Whose tempers, inclinations, sense, and wit, 

"Lrike two indentures, did agree so fit. 
VOL. ir. 17 



258 FRAGMENTS UPON THE 

The ancient sceptics constantly deny'd 
What they maintain'd, and thought they justify'd* 
For when th' affirm'd that nothing 's to be known^ 
They did but what they said before disown ; 
And, like Polemics of the Post, pronounce 
The same thing to be true and false at once. 

These follies had such influence on the rabble, 
As to engage them in perpetual squabble ; 
Divided Rome and Athens into clans 
Of ignorant mechanic partisans ; 
That, to maintain their own hypothesis. 
Broke one another's blockheads, and the peace ; 
Were often set by officers i' th' stocks 
For quarrelling about a paradox : 
When pudding-wives were launcht in cock-quean 

stools 
For falling foul on oyster-women's schools ; 
No herb-women sold cabbages or onions 
But to their gossips of their own opinions ; 
A peripatetic cobbler scorn'd to sole 
A pair of shoes of any other school ; 
And porters of the judgment of the Stoics, 
To go an errand of the Cyrenaics ; 
That us'd t' encounter in athletic lists. 
With beard to beard, and teeth and nails to fists. 
Like modern kicks and cuffs among the youth 
Of academics, to maintain the truth. 
But in the boldest feats of arms the Stoic 
And Epicureans were the most heroic, 
That stoutly ventur'd breaking of their necks, 



ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING. 259 

f o vindicate the int'rests of their sects, 

A.iid still behav'd themselves as resolute 

tn waging cuffs and bruises as dispute, 

Until with wounds and bruises which they 'ad got, 

Some hundreds were kill'd dead upon the spot ; 

When all their quarrels, rightly understood. 

Were but to prove disputes the sov'reign good. 

Distinctions, that had been at first design'd 
To regulate the errors of the mind, 
Bj b'ing too nicely overstrain'd and vext 
Have made the comment harder than the text, 
And do not now, like carving, hit the joint, 
But break the bones in pieces, of a point. 
And with impertinent evasions force 

The clearest reason from its native course 

That argue things so' uncertain, 'tis no matter 

Whether they are, or never were, in nature , 

And venture to demonstrate, when they 'ave slurr'd 

And palm'd a fallacy upon a word. 

For disputants (as swordsmen use to fence 

With blunted foyles) engage with blunted sense ; 

And as they 're wont to falsify a blow. 

Use nothing else to pass upon the foe ; 

( )r if they venture further to attack. 

Like bowlers, strive to beat away the jack ; 

And, when they find themselves too hardly preston, 

Prevaricate, and change the state o' th' question 

The noblest science of defence and art 

tn practice now wi' h all tha^ controvert, 



^fiO FRAGMENTS UPON THE 

And th* only mode of prizes, from Bear-garden 
Down to the schools, in giving blows, or warding 

As old knights-errant in their harness fought 

As safe as in a castle or redoubt, 

Gave one another desperate attacks, 

To storm the counterscarps upon their backs ; 

So disputants advance, and post their arms, 

To storm the works of one another's terms ; 

Fall foul on some extravagant expression. 

But ne'er attempt the main design and reason — 

So some polemics use to draw their swords 

Against the language only and the words ; 

As he who fought at barriers with Salmasius, 

Engag'd with nothing but his style and phrases, 

Wav'd to assert the murther of a prince, 

The author of false Latin to convince ; 

But laid the merits of the cause aside. 

By those that understood them to be try'd ; 

And counted breaking Priscian's head a thing 

More capital than to behead a king. 

For which he 'as been admir'd by all the learn'd 

Of knaves concern'd, and pedants unconcern'd. 

Judgment is but a curious pair of scales. 

That turns with th' hundredth part of true or false 

And still the more 'tis us'd is wont t' abate 

The subtlety and niceness of its weight. 

Until 'tis false, and will not rise nor fall, 

Like those that are less artificial ; 



ABUSE OP HUMAN LEARNING. 2G] 

Ajid therefore students, in their ways of judging. 
Are fain to swallow many a senseless gudgeon, 
And by their over-understanding lose 
Its active faculty with too much use ; 
For reason, when too curiously 'tis spun, 

Is but the next of all remov'd from none 

It is Opmion governs all mankind, 
As wisely as the blind that leads the blind ; 
For as those surnames are esteem'd the best 
That signify in all things else the least. 
So men pass fairest in the world's opinion 
That have the least of truth and reason in them. 
Truth would undo the world, if it possest 
The meanest of its right and interest ; 
Is but a titular princess, whose authority 
Is always under age, and in minority ; 
Has all things done, and carried in its name, 
But most of all where it can lay no claim ; 
As far from gaiety and complaisance. 
As greatness, insolence, and ignorance ; 
And therefore has surrendered her dominion 
O'er all mankind to barbarous Opinion, 
That m her right usurps the tyrannies 
And arbitrary government of lies — 

As no tricks on the rope but those that break, 
Or come most near to breaking of a neck. 
Are worth the sight, so nothing goes for wit 
But nonsense, or the next of all to it : 
For nonsense being neither false nor true, 
4 little wit to any thing may screw ; 



262 FRAGMENTS UPON THE 

And, when it has a while been us'd, of course 
Will stand as well in virtue, pow'r, and force, 
And pass for sense t' all purposes as good 
As if it had at first been understood ; 
For nonsense has the amplest privileges, 
And more than all the strongest sense obliges, 
That furnishes the schools with terms of art, 
The mysteries of science to impart ; 
Supplies all seminaries with recruits 
Of endless controversies and disputes ; 
For learned nonsense has a deeper sound 
Than easy sense, and goes for more profound. 

For all our learned authors now compile 

At charge of nothing but the words and style. 

And the most curious critics or the learned 

Believe themselves in nothing else concerned; 

For as it is the garniture and dress 

That all things wear in books and languages 

(And all men's qualities are wont t' appear 

According to the habits that they wear), 

'Tis probable to be the truest test 

Of all the ingenuity o' th' rest. 

The lives of trees lie only in the barks, 

And in their styles the wit of greatest clerks ; 

Hence 'twas the ancient Roman politicians 

Went to the schools of foreign rhetoricians, 

To learn the art of patrons, in defence 

Of int'rest and their clients' eloquence ; 

When consuls, censors, senators, and praetors, 



ABUSE OP HUMAN LEARNING. 2'oB 

With great dictators, us'd t' apply to rhetors, 
To hear the greater magistrate o' th' school 
Give sentence in his haughty chair-curule, 
And those who mighty nations overcame 
Were fain to say their lessons, and declaim. 

Words are but pictures, true or false, design'd 
To draw the lines and features of the mind ; 
The characters and artificial draughts 
T' express the inward images of thoughts ; 
And artists say a picture may be good, 
Although the moral be not understood ; 
Whence some infer they may admire a style, 
Though all the rest be e'er so mean and vile ; 
Applaud th' outsides of words, but never mind 
With what fantastic tawdry they are lin'd. 

So orators, enchanted with the twang 
Of their own trillos, take delight t' harangue ; 
Whose science, like a juggler's box and balls, 
Conveys and counterchanges true and false ; 
Casts mists before an audience's eyes. 
To pass the one for th' other in disguise ; 
And, like a morrice-dancer dress'd with bells, 
Only to serve for noise and nothing else, 
Such as a carrier makes his cattle wear 
And hangs for pendents in a horse's ear ; 
For if the language will but bear the test, 
No matter what becomes of all the rest ; 
The ablest orator, to save a word, 
Would throw all sense and reason overboard. 
Hence 'tis that nothing else but eloquence 



264 FRAGMENTS UPON THE 

Is ty'd to such a prodigal expense ; 

That lays out half the wit and sense it uses 

Upon the other half's as vain excuses : 

For all defences and apologies 

Are but specifics t' other frauds and lies ; 

And th' artificial wash of eloquence 

Is daub'd in vain upon the clearest sense, 

Only to stain the native ingenuity 

Of equal brevity and perspicuity, 

Whilst all the best and sob'rest things he does 

Are when he coughs, or spits, or blov>rs his nose 

Handles no point so evident and clear 

(Besides his white gloves) as his handkercher, 

Unfolds the nicest scruple so distinct 

As if his talent had been wrapt up in 't 

Unthriftily, and now he went about 

Henceforward to improve and put it out. 

The pedants are a mongrel breed, that bojoum 
Among the ancient writers and the modern ; 
And, while their studies are between the one 
And th' other spent, have nothing of their own ; 
Like sponges, are both plants and animals, 
And equally to both their natures false : 
For whether 'tis their want of conversation 
Inclines them to all sorts of affectation ; 
The^r sedentary life and melancholy, 
The everlasting nursery of folly ; 
Their poring upon black and white too subtly 
Has turn'd the insides of their brains to motlo/ . 



ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING' 265 

Or squand'ring of their wits and time upon 
Too many things has made them fit for none ; 
Their constant overstraining of the mind 
Distorts the brain, as horses break their wind ; 
Or rude confusions of the things they read 
Gat up, like noxious vapours, in the head, 
Until they have their constant wanes, and fulls, 
And changes, in the insides of their skulls ; 
Or venturing beyond the reach of wit 
Has render'd them for all things else unfit, 
But never bring the world and books together, 
And therefore never rightly judge of either ; 
Whence multitudes of rev'rend men and critics 
Have got a kind of intellectual rickets, 
And by th' immoderate excess of study 
Have found the sickly head t' outgrow the body. 

For pedantry is but a corn or wart. 
Bred in the skin of judgment, sense, and art, 
A stupify'd excrescence, like a wen. 
Fed by the peccant humours of learn'd men. 
That never grows from natural defects 
Of downright and untutor'd intellects. 
But from the over-curious and vain 
Distempers of an artificial brain — 

So he that once stood for the learn ed'st man, 
Had read out Little-Britain and Duck-Lane, 
Worn out his reason and reduc'd his body 
And brain to nothing with perpetual study ; 
Kept tutors of all sorts, and virtu osoes, 
To read aU authors to ) im with their glosses^ 



266 ABUSE OF HUMAN LEARNING. 

A^nd made his lacquies, when he walk'd, bear folios 
Of dictionaries, lexicons, and scholias. 
To be read to him every way the wind 
Should chance to sit, before him or behind ; 
Had read out all th' imaginary duels 
That had been fought by consonants and vowels ; 
Had crackt his skuU to find out proper places 
To lay up aU memoirs of things in cases ; 
And practis'd all the tricks upon the charts, 
To play with packs of sciences and arts, 
That serve t' improve a feeble gamester's study, 
That ventures at grammatic beast or noddy ; 
Had read out aU the catalogues of wares. 
That come in dry vats o'er from Francfort fairs, 
Whose authors use t' articulate their surnames 
With scraps of Greek more learned than the Ger 

mans ; 
Was wont to scatter books in every room. 
Where they might best be seen by all that come, 
And lay a train that nat'rally should force 
What he design'd, as if it fell of course ; 
And all this with a worse success than Cardan, 
Who bought both books and learning at a bargain 
When, lighting on a philosophic spell 
Of which he never knew one syllable. 
Presto, begone, h' unriddled all he read, 
As if he had to nothing else been bred. 



ON A HrrOCKITICAL NONCONFORMIST. 2G7 

ON A HYPOCEITICAL NONCONFORMIST. 

A PINDARIC ODE. 

I. 

There 's nothing so absurd, or vain, 

Or barbarous, or inhumane, 

But if it lay the least pretence 

To pietj and godliness. 

Or tender-hearted conscience. 

And zeal for gospel-truths profess. 

Does sacred instantly commence. 

And all that dare but question it are strait 

Pronounc'd th' uncircumcis'd and reprobate : 

As malefactors that escape and fly 

Into a sanctuary for defence. 

Must not be brought to justice thence, 

Although their crimes be ne'er so great and high ; 

And he that dares presume to do 't 

Is sentenc'd and deliver'd up 

To Satan that engag'd him to 't, 

For vent'ring wickedly to put a stop 

To his immunities and free afiairs. 

Or meddle saucily with theirs, 

That are employ'd by him, while he and they 

Proceed in a religious and a holy way. 

II. 

And as the Pagans heretofore 
Did their own handyworks adore. 



2j8 on a hypocritical 

And made their stone and timber deities, 

Their temples, and their altars, of one piece ; 

The same outgoings seem t' inspire 

Our modern self-will'd Edifier, 

That out of things as far from sense, and more. 

Contrives new light and revelation, 

The creatures of th' imagination, 

To worship and fall down before ; 

Of which his crack'd delusions draw 

As monsti'ous images and rude 

As ever Pagan, to beUeve in, hew'd. 

Or madmen in a vision saw ; 

Mistakes the feeble impotence, 

And vain delusions of his mind. 

For spiritual gifts and offerings 

Which Heaven, to present him, brings ; 

And still, the further 'tis from sense. 

Believes it is the more refin'd. 

And ought to be receiv'd with greater reverence, 

III. 
But as all tricks, whose principles 
Are false, prove false in all things else, 
The dull and heavy hypocrite 
Is but in pension with his conscience, 
That pays him for maintaining it 
With zealous rage and impudence, 
And as the one grows obstinate, 
So does the other rich and fat ; 
Disposes of his gifts and dispensations 
Like spiritual foundations, 



NONCONFORMIST. 269 

> 

Endow'd to pious uses, and design'd 

To entertain the weak, the lame, and blind ; 

But still diverts them to as bad, or worse^ 

Than others are by unjust governors : 

For, like our modern publicans, 

He still puts out all dues 

He owes to Heaven to the dev'l to use, 

And makes his godly interest great gains 

Takes all the Brethren (to recruit 

The spirit in him) contribute, 

And, to repair and edify his spent 

And broken-winded outward man, present 

For painful holding-forth against the government. 

IV. 

The subtle spider never spins, 

But on dark days, his slimy gins ; 

Nor does our engineer much care to plant 

His spiritual machines 

Unless among the weak and ignorant, 

Th' inconstant, credulous, and light, 

The vain, the factious, and the slight. 

That in their zeal are most extra vasrant ; 

For trouts are tickled best in muddy water ; 

And still, the muddier he finds their brains, 

The more he 's sought and follow'd after, 

A.nd greater ministrai^ions gains ; 

For talking idly is admir'd, 

A.nd speaking nonsense held inspir'd ; 

And still the flatter and more dull 

His gifts appear, is held more powerful ; 



270 ON A nYPOCRITICAL 

For blocks are better cleft with wedges 

Thau tools of sharp and subtle edges ; 

And dullest nonsense has been found 

By some to be the solid'st and the most profound 

V. 

A great Apostle once was said 
"With too much learning to be mad ; 
But our great Saint becomes distract, 
And only with too little crackt ; 
Cries moral truths and human learning down, 
And will endure no reason but his own : 
For 'tis a drudgery and task 
Not for a Saint, but Pagan oracle. 
To answer all men can object or ask ; 
But to be found impregnable, 
And with a sturdy forehead to hold out, 
In spite of shame or reason resolute. 
Is braver than to argue and confute : 
As he that can draw blood, they say. 
From witches, takes their magic pow'r away, 
So he that draws blood int' a Brother's face. 
Takes all his gifts away, and light, and grace : 
For while he holds that nothing is so damn'd 
And shameful as to be asham'd. 
He never can b' attack'd. 
But will come off; for Confidence, well back'd 
Among the weak and prepossess'd. 
Has often Truth, with all her kingly pow'r, op. 
press'd. 



NONCONFORMIST 271 

VI. 

It is the nature of late zeal, 

Twill not be subject, nor rebel. 

Nor left at large, nor be restrain'd. 

But where there 's something to be gain'd ; 

And that b'ing once reveal'd, defies 

The law, with all its penalties, 

And is convinc'd no pale 

O' th' church can be so sacred as a jail : 

For as the Indians' prisons are their mines, 

So he has found are all restraints 

To thriving and free-conscienc'd Saints ; 

For the same thing enriches that confines ; 

And like to Lully, when he was in hold. 

He turns his baser metals into gold, 

Receives returning and retiring fees 

For holding-forth, and holding of his peace, 

And takes a pension to be advocate 

And standing counsel 'gainst the church and state 

For gall'd and tender consciences : 

Commits himself to prison to trepan, 

Draw in, and spirit all he can ; 

For birds in cages have a call. 

To draw the wildest into nets, 

More prevalent and natural 

Than all our artificial pipes and counterfeits. 

VII. 

His slipp'ry conscience has more tricks 
Than all the juggling empirics, 
All ev'r J one another contradicts ; 



2^2 ON A HYPOCRITICAL 

All laws of lieav'n and earth can break, 
And swallow oaths, and blood, and rapme easy. 
And yet is so infirm and weak, 
'Twill not endure the gentlest check, 
But at the slightest nicety grows queasy : 
Disdains control, and yet can be 
No-where, but in a prison, free ; 
Can force itself, in spite of God, 
Who makes it free as thought at home, 
A slave and villain to become 
To serve its interests abroad : 
And though no Pharisee was e'er so cunning 
At tithing mint and cummin. 
No dull idolater was e'er so flat 
h\ things of deep and solid weight, 
Pretends to charity and hoUness, 
But is implacable to peace. 
And out of tenderness grows obstinate. 
And though the zeal of God's house ate a prince 
And prophet up (he says) long since, 
His cross-grain'd peremptory zeal 
Would eat up God's house, and devour it at a 
meal. 

VIII. 

He does not pray, but prosecute, 
As if he went to law, his suit ; 
Summons his Maker to appear 
And answer what he shall prefer ; 
Returns him back his gift of prayer, 
N^ot to petition, but declare ; 



NONCONFORMIST. 273 

Exhibits cross complaints 

Against him for the breach of Covenants, 

And all the charters of the Saints ; 

Pleads guilty to the action, and yet stands 

Upon high terms and bold demands ; 

Excepts against him and his laws, 

And will be judge himself in his own cause ; 

And grows more saucy and severe 

Than th' Heathen emp'ror was to Jupiter, 

That us'd to wrangle with him, and dispute, 

And sometimes would speak softly in his ear. 

And sometimes loud, and rant, and tear, 

And threaten, if he did not grant his suit. 

IX. 

But when his painful gifts h' employs 

In holding-forth, the virtue hes 

Not in the letter of the sense, 

But in the spiritual vehemence, 

The pow'r and dispensation of the voice, 

The zealous pangs and agonies, 

And heav'nly turnings of the eyes ; 

The groans with which he piously destroys, 

And drowns the nonsense in the noise ; 

And grows so loud as if he meant to force 

And take in heav'n by violence ; 

To fright the Saints into salvation. 

Or scare the devil from temptation ; 

Until he falls so low and hoarse. 

No kind of carnal sense 

Can be made out of what he means : 

VOL. II. 18 



274 ON A HYPOCRITICAL 

But as the ancient Pagans were precise 

To use no short-tail'd beast in sacrifice, 

He still conforms to them, and has a care 

T' allow the largest measure to his paltry warcr 

X. 

The ancient churches, and the best, 

By their own martyrs' blood increast ; 

But he has found out a new way, 

To do it with the blood of those 

That dare his church's growth oppose, 

Or her imperious canons disobey ; 

And strives to carry on the Work, 

Like a true primitive reforming Turk, 

With holy rage, and edifying war. 

More safe and pow'rful ways by far : 

For the Turk's patriarch, Mahomet, 

Was the first great Reformer, and the chief 

Of th' ancient Christian behef. 

That mix'd it with new Hght, and cheat, 

With revelations, dreams, and visions, 

And apostolic superstitions. 

To be held forth and carry'd on by war ; 

And his successor was a Presbyter, 

With greater right than Haly or Abubeker. 

XI. 

For as a Turk that is to act some crime 

Against his Prophet's holy law 

Is wont to bid his soul Mdthdraw, 

And leave his body for a time ; 

So when some horrid action 's to be done. 



NONCONFORMIST. 275 

Our Turkish proselyte puts on 

Another spirit, and lays by his own ; 

And when his over-heated brain 

Turns giddy, like his Brother Mussulman, 

He 's judg'd inspir'd, and all his frenzies held 

To be prophetic, and reveal'd. 

The one believes all madmen to be saints, 

Which th' other cries him down for and abhors, 

And yet in madness all devotion plants. 

And where he differs most concurs ; 

Both equally exact and just 

In perjury and breach of trust ; 

So like in all things, that one Brother 

Is but a counterpart of th' other ; 

And both unanimously damn 

And hate (like two that play one game) 

Each other for it, while they strive to do the same 

XII. 

Both equally design to raise 

Their churches by the self-same ways ; 

With war and ruin to assert 

Their doctrine, and with sword and fire convert ; 

To preach the gospel with a drum. 

And for convincing overcome : 

And though in worshipping of God all blood 

Was by his own laws disallow'd. 

Both hold no holy rites to be so good. 

And both to propagate the breed 

Of their own Saints one way proceed ; 

For lust and rapes in war repair as fast 



276 ON MODERN CRITICS. 

As fury and destruction waste : 

Both equally allow all crimes 

As lawful means to propagate a sect ; 

For laws in war can be of no effect, 

And license does more good in gospel-times. 

Hence 'tis that holy wars have ever been 

The horrid'st scenes of blood and sin ; 

For when Religion does recede 

From her own nature, nothing but a breed 

Of prodigies and hideous monsters can succeed- 



ON MODERN CRITICS. 

A PINDARIC ODE. 

I. 

"lis weU that equal Heav'n has plac'd 

Those joys above, that to reward 

The just and virtuous are prepar'd, 

Beyond their reach, until their pains are past ; 

Else men would rather venture to possess 

By force, than earn their happiness ; 

And only take the dev'l's advice, 

As Adam did, how soonest to be wise, 

Though at th' expense of Paradise : 

For, as some say, to fight is but a base 

Mechanic handy- work, and far below 



ON MODERN CRITICS. 277 

A. generous spirit t' undergo ; 

So 'tis to take the pains to know, 

Which some, with only confidence and face, 

More easily and ably do ; 

For daring nonsense seldom fails to hit, 

Like scatter'd shot, and pass with some for wit. 

Who would not rather make himself a judge. 

And boldly usurp the chair. 

Than with dull industry and care 

Endure to study, think, and drudge. 

For that which he much sooner may advance 

With obstinate and pertinacious ignorance ? 

II. 
For all men challenge, though in spite 
Of Nature and their stars, a right 
To censure, judge, and know. 
Though she can only order who 
Shall be, and who shall ne'er be, wise : 
Then why should those whom she denies 
Her favour and good graces to. 
Not strive to take opinion by surprise, 
And ravish what it were in vain to woo ? 
For he that desp'rately assumes 
The censure of all wits and arts. 
Though without judgment, skill, and parts, 
Only to startle and amuse. 
And mask his ignorance (as Indians use 
With gaudy-colour'd plumes 
Their homely nether parts t' adorn) 
Can never fail to captive some 



278 ON MODERN CRITICS. 

That will submit to his oraculous doom, 

And rev'rence what they ought to scorn ; 

Admire his sturdy confidence 

For solid judgment and deep sense ; 

And credit purchas'd without pains or wit, 

Like stolen pleasures, ought to be most sweet. 

III. 
Two self-admirers, that combine 
Against the world, may pass a fine 
Upon all judgment, sense, and wit, 
And settle it as they think fit 
On one another, like the choice 
Of Persian princes, by one horse's voice : 
For those fine pageants which some raise, 
Of false and disproportion'd praise, 
T' enable whom they please t' appear 
And pass for what they never were, 
In private only b'ing but nam'd. 
Their modesty must be asham'd, 
And not endure to hear. 
And yet may be divulg'd and fam'd. 
And own'd in public everywhere : 
So vain some authors are to boast 
Their want of ingenuity, and club 
Their affidavit wits, to dub 
Each other but a Knight o' the Post ; 
As false as suborn'd perjurers. 
That vouch away all right they have to their own 
ears. 



ON MODERN CRITICS. 27\f 

IV. 

But when all other courses fail, 

There is one easy artifice 

That seldom has been known to miss, 

To cry all mankind down, and rail ; 

For he whom all men do contemn 

May be allow'd to rail again at them, 

And in his own defence 

To outface reason, wit, and sense. 

And all that makes against himself condemn ; 

To snarl at all things right or wrong, 

Like a mad dog that has a worm in 's tongue ; 

Reduce all knowledge back of good and evil, 

T' its first original the devil ; 

And, like a fierce inquisitor of wit. 

To spare no flesh that ever spoke or writ ; 

Though to perform his task as dull 

As if he had a toads tone in his skull. 

And could produce a greater stock 

Of maggots than a pastoral poet's flock. 

V. 

The feeblest vermin can destroy 

As sure as stoutest beasts of prey. 

And only with their eyes and breath 

Infect and poison men to death ; 

But that more impotent buffoon 

That makes it both his bus'ness and his sport 

To rail at all, is but a drone 

That spends his sting on what he cannot hurt 5 

Enjoys a kind of lechery in spite, 



280 ON MODERN CRITICS. 

Like o'ergrown sinners tliat in whipping take de« 

light; 
Invades the reputation of all those 
That have, or have it not to lose ; 
And if he chance to make a difference, 
'Tis always in the wrongest sense : 
As rooking gamesters never laj 
Upon those hands that use fair play, 
But venture all their bets 
Upon the slurs and cunning tricks of ablest cheats. 

VI. 

Nor does he vex himself much less 

Than all the world beside, 

Falls sick of other men's excess. 

Is humbled only at their pride, 

And wretclied at their happiness ; 

Revenges on himself the wrong, 

AVhich his vain malice and loose tongue. 

To those that feel it not, have done, 

And whips and spurs himself because he is outgone ; 

Makes idle characters and tales, 

As counterfeit, unlike, and false. 

As witches' pictures are of wax and clay 

To those whom they would in e^gj slay. 

And as the dev'l, that has no shape of 's own. 

Affects to put the ugHest on, 

Aiid leaves a stink behind him when he 's gone, 

So he that 's worse than nothing striveis t' appeal 

I' th' likeness of a wolf or bear. 

To fright the weak ; but when men dare 

Encounter with him, stinks, and vanishes to air. 



TO IHE MEMORY OF DU-VAL. 281 



TO THE 

HAPPY MEMORY OF THE MOST RENOWNE 
DU-VAL. 

A PINDARIC ODE.* 
I. 

'Tis true, to compliment the dead 

Is as impertinent and vain 

As 'twas of old to call them back again, 

Or, like the Tartars, give them wives, 

With settlements for after-lives ; 

For all that can be done or said, 

Though e'er so noble, great, and good, 

By them is neither heard nor understood. 

All our fine sleights and tricks of art, 

First to create, and then adore desert. 

And those romances which we frame 

To raise ourselves, not them, a name, 

In vain are stuft with ranting flatteries, 

And such as, if thej knew, they would despise. 

For as those times the Golden Age we call 

In which there was no gold in use at all, 

* This Ode, which is tlie only genuine pocra of Butler's 
among the many spurious ones fathered upon him in what is 
called his ' Remains,' was published by the Author himself 
under his own name, in the year 1671, in three sheets 4to. 



282 TO THE MEMORY OF DU-VAL. 

So we plant glory and renown 
Where it was ne'er deserv'd nor known, 
But to worse purpose, many times, 
To flourish o'er nefarious crimes, 
And cheat the world, that never seems to mind 
How good or bad men die, but what they leave 
behind. 

II. 
And yet the brave Du-Yal, whose name 
Can never be worn out by Fame, 
That liv'd and died to leave behind 
A great example to mankind ; 
That fell a public sacrifice, 
From ruin to preserve those few 
Who, though born false, may be made true, 
-4nd teach the world to be more just and wise ; 
Ought not, like vulgar ashes, rest 
Unmention'd in his silent chest, 
Not for his own, but public interest. 
He, like a pious man, some years before 
The arrival of his fatal hour. 
Made ev'ry day he had to live 
To his last minute a preparative ; 
Taught the wild Arabs on the road 
To act in a more gentle mode ; 
Take prizes more obligingly than those 
Who never had been bred filous ; 
And how to hang in a more graceful fashion 
Than e'er was known before to the dull Englisl^ 
nation. 



TO THE MEMORY OF DU-VAL. 283 

III. 

In France, the staple of new modes, 

Where garbs and miens are current goods, 

That serves the ruder northern nations 

With methods of address and treat ; 

Prescribes new garnitures and fashions, 

And how to drink and how to eat 

No out-of-fashion wine or meat ; 

To understand cravats and plumes, 

A.nd the most modish from the old perfumes ; 

To know the age and pedigrees 

Of points of Flanders or Venice ; 

Cast their nativities, and, to a day. 

Foretell how long they '11 hold, and when decay ; 

T' affect the purest negligences 

In gestures, gaits, and miens. 

And speak by repartee-rotines 

Out of the most authentic of romances, 

And to demonstrate, with substantial reason. 

What ribands, all the year, are in or out of season ; 

IV. 

In this great academy of mankind 

He had his birth and education, 

Where all men are s' ingeniously inclin'd 

They understand by imitation. 

Improve untaught, before they are aware, 

As if they suck'd their breeding from the air, 

That naturally does dispense 

To all a deep and solid confidence ; 

A virtue of that precious use. 



284 TO THE MEMORY OF DU-VAL. 

That he whom bounteous Heav'n endues 

But with a mod'rate share of it, 

Can want no worth, abilities, or wit, 

In all the deep Hermetic arts 

(For so of late the learned call 

All tricks, if strange and mystical). 

He had improv'd his nat'ral parts, 

And with his magic rod could sound 

Where hidden treasury might be found : 

He, like a lord o' th' manor, seiz'd upon 

Whatever happened in his way 

As lawful weft and stray, 

And after, by the custom, kept it as his own. 

V. 

From these first rudiments he grew 

To nobler feats, and tiy'd his force 

Upon whole troops of foot and horse. 

Whom he as bravely did subdue ; 

Declar'd all caravans that go 

Upon the king's highway the foe ; 

Made many desperate attacks 

Upon itinerant brigades 

Of all professions, ranks, and trades, 

On carriers' loads, and pedlers' packs ; 

Made them lay down their arms, and yield. 

And, to the smallest piece, restore 

All that by cheating they had gain'd before, 

A.nd after plunder'd all the baggage of the field 

In every bold afiuir of war 

He had the chief command, and led them on ; 






TO THE MEMORY OF DU-VAL. 285 

For no man is judg'd fit to have the care 
Of others' lives, until he 'as made it known 
How much he does despise and scorn his own. 

VI. 

"Whole provinces, 'twixt sun and sun, 

Have by his conqu'ring sword been won ; 

And mighty sums of money laid. 

For ransom, upon every man. 

And hostages deliver'd till 'twas paid. 

Th' excise and chimney-publican, 

The Jew forestaller and enhancer. 

To him for all their crimes did answer. 

He vanquish'd the most fierce and fell 

Of all his foes, the Constable ; 

And oft had beat his quarters up. 

And routed him and all his troop. 

He took the dreadful lawyer's fees, 

That in his own allow'd highway 

Does feats of arms as great as his, 

And, when they' encounter in it, wins the day ; 

Safe in his garrison, the Court, 

Where meaner criminals are sentenc'd for % 

To this stern foe he oft gave quarter, 

But as the Scotchman did t' a Tartar, 

That he, in time to come, 

Might in return from him receive his fatal doom. 

VII. 

He would have starv'd this mighty Town, 
And brought its haughty spirit down ; 
Have cut it off from all relief. 



286 TO THE MEMORY OF DU-VAL. 

And, like a wise and valiant chief, 

Made many a fierce assault 

Upon all ammunition carts, 

And those that bring up cheese, or malt, 

Or bacon, from remoter parts : 

No convoy e'er so strong with food 

Durst venture on the desp'rate road; 

He made th' undaunted waggoner obey. 

And the fierce higgler contribution pay ; 

The savage butcher and stout drover 

Durst not to him their feeble troops discover ; 

And, if he had but kept the field, 

In time had made the city yield ; 

For great towns, like to crocodiles, are found 

T' th' belly aptest to receive a mortal wound. 

VIII. 

But when the fatal hour arriv'd 

In which his stars began to frown. 

And had in close cabals contriv'd 

To pull him from his height of glory down, 

And he, by num'rous foes opprest. 

Was in th' enchanted dungeon cast, 

Secur'd with mighty guards, 

Lest he by force or stratagem 

Might prove too cunning for their chains and 

them. 
And break through all their locks, and bolts, and 

wards ; 
Had both his legs by charms committed 
To one another's charge. 



TO THE MEMORY OF DU-VAL. 287 

That neither might be set at large, 
And all their fury and revenge outwitted. 
As jewels of high value are 
Kept under locks with greater care 
Than those of meaner rates, 
So he was in stone walls, and chains, and iron 
grates. 

IX. 

Thither came ladies from all parts. 

To offer up close prisoners their hearts, 

Which he receiv'd as tribute due, 

And made them yield up love and honour too 

But in more brave heroic ways 

Than e'er were practis'd yet in plays : 

For those two spiteful foes, who never meet 

But full of hot contests and piques 

About punctihoes and mere tricks. 

Did aU their quarrels to his doom submit, 

And, far more generous and free. 

In contemplation only of him did agree : 

Both fully satisfy'd ; the one 

With those fresh laurels he had won, 

And all the brave renowned feats 

He had perform'd in arms ; 

The other with his person and his charms : 

For, just as larks are catch'd in nets 

By gazing on a piece of glass, 

So while the ladies view'd his brighter eyes, 

And smoother polish'd face. 

Their gentle hearts, alas ! were taken by surprise 



288 TO THE MEMORY OP DU-VAL. 

X. 

Never did bold knight, to relieve 

Distressed dames, such dreadful feats achieve 

As feeble damsels, for his sake, 

Would have been proud to undertake ; 

And, bravely ambitious to redeem 

The world's loss and their own, 

Strove who should have the honour to lay down 

And change a life with him ; 

But, finding all their hopes in vain 

To move his fixt determin'd fate, 

Their life itself began to hate, 

As if it were an infamy 

To live when he was doom'd to die ; 

Made loud appeals and moans, 

To less hard-hearted grates and stones ; 

Came, swell'd with sighs, and drown'd in tears, 

To yield themselves his fellow-sufferers, 

And folio w'd him, like prisoners of war, 

Ghain'd to the lofty wheels of his triumphal car. 



▲ BALLAD. 289 



A BALLAD 



OPON THE PARLIAMENT, WHICH DELIBERATED 
ABOUT MAKING OLIVER KING.* 

As close as a goose 

Sat the Parliament-house 

To hatch the royal gull ; 
After much fiddle-faddle, 
The egg proved addle. 

And Oliver came forth Nol. 

Yet old Queen Madge, 
Though things do not fadge. 

Will serve to be queen of a May-pole ; 
Two princes of Wales, 
For Whitsun-ales, 

And her Grace Maid-Marion Clay-pole. 

In a robe of cow-hide 
Sat yesty Pride, 

With his dagger and his sling ; 

* This Ballad refers to the Parliament, as it was called, 
wLich deliberated about making Oliver king, and petitioned 
him to accept the title; which he, out of fear of some re- 
publican zealots in his party, refused to accept, and contented 
himself with the power, under the name of * Protector.* 

VOL. u. 19 



290 A BALLAD. 

He was tlie pertinent'st peer 
Of all that were there, 

T' advise with such a king. 

A great philosopher 
Had a goose for his lover, 

That follow'd him day and night : 
If it be a true story 
Or but an allegory, 

It may be both ways right. 

Strickland and his son, 
Both cast into one. 

Were meant for a single baron ; 
But when they came to sit, 
There was not wit 

Enough in them both to serve for one> 



*o" 



Wherefore 'twas thought good 
To add Honeywood ; 

But when they came to tiial. 
Each one prov'd a fool. 
Yet three knaves in the whole. 

And that made up a Pair-royaL 



A BALLAD. 291 



A BALLAD, 

IN TWO PARTS, CONJECTURED TO BE ON 
OLIVER CROMWELL.* 

PART I. 

Draw near, good people all, draw near, 
And hearken to my ditty ; 

A stranger thing 

Than this I sing 
Came never to this city. 

Had you but seen this monster, 
You would not give a farthing 
For the lions in the grate. 
Nor the mountain-cat. 
Nor the bears in Paris-garden. 

You would defy the pageants 
Are borne before the mayor ; 
The strangest shape 
You e'er did gape 
Upon at Bart'lmy fair ! 

* To this humorous ballad Butler had prefixed this title — 
I'he Privileges of Pimping ' — but afterwards crossed H out, 
•or wliich reason it is not inserted here. 



292 A BALLAD. 

His face is round and decent,* 
As is your dish or platter, 
On which there grows 
A thing Hke a nose, 
But, indeed, it is no such matter. 

On both sides of th' aforesaid 

Are eyes, but they 're not matchea. 

On which there are 

To be seen two fair 
And large well-grown mustaches. 

Now this with admiration 
Does all beholders strike, 
That a beard should grow 
Upon a thing's brow. 
Did ye ever see the like ? 

He has no skull, 'tis well known 
To thousands of beholders ; 
Nothing but a skin 
Does keep his brains in 
From running about his shoulders. 



* From the medals, and original portraits, which are eft of 
Oliver Cromwell, one may probabl}'^ conjecture, if not posi- 
tively affirm, that this droll picture was designed for him 
The roundness of the face, the oddness of the nose, and the re 
marKable largeness of the eyebrows, are particulars which 
correspond exactly with them. 



A BALLAD. 298 

On both sides of his noddle 

Are straps o' the very same leather ; 

Ears are imply'd, 

But they 're mere hide, 
Or morsels of tripe, choose ye whether. 

Between these two extendeth 
A slit from ear to ear 
That every hour 
Gapes to devour 
The sowce that grows so near. 

Beneath, a tuft of bristles. 
As rough as a frize-jerkin ; 

If it had been a beard, 

'Twould have serv'd a herd 
Of goats, that are of his near kin. 

Within, a set of grinders 
Most sharp and keen, corroding 

Your iron and brass 

As easy as 
That you would do a pudding. 

But the strangest thing of all is, 
Upon his rump there groweth 
A great long tail. 
That useth to trail 
Upon the ground as he goeth. 



294 A BALLAD. 



A BALLAD, 

™ TWO PARTS, CONJECTURED TO BE ON OLI« 
VER CROMWELL. 

PART II. 

This monster was begotten 
Upon one of the witches, 
B' an imp that came to her, 
Like a man, to woo her, 
With black doublet and breeches. 

When he was whelp'd, for certain, 
In divers several countries 

The hogs and swine . 

Did grunt and whine, 
And the ravens croak'd upon trees. 

The winds did blow, the thunder 

And lightning loud did rumble ; 
The dogs did howl. 
The hollow tree in th' owl — ♦ 

'Tis a good horse that ne'er stumbled. 

* This whimsical liberty our Author takes of transposing 
the words for tlie sake of a rh^-me, though at the expense of 
the sense, is a new kind of poetic license; and it is mei-n 



A BALLAD. 295 

As soon as he was brought forth, 
At the midwife's throat he flew, 
And threw the pap 
Down in her lap ; 
They say 'tis very true. 

And up the walls he clamber'd, 
With nails most sharp and keen, 
The prints whereof, 
r th' boards and roof, 
Are yet for to be seen. 

And out o' th' top o' th' chimney 
He vanish'd, seen of none ; 

For they did wink, 

Yet by the stink 
Knew which way he was gone. 

The country round about there 

Became like to a wilder- 
ness ; for the sight 
Of him did fright 

Away men, women, and children. 



enough to observe, that he literally does, what he jokingly 
charges upon other poets in another place: 

But those that write in rhyme still make 

The one verse for the other's sake ; 

For one for sense, and one for rhyme, 

I tliink 's suflScient at one time. Hud. p. 2. c. 1. v. 27. 



896 A BALLAD. 

Long did he there continue, 

And all those parts much harmed. 
Till a wise-woman, which 
Some call a white witch, 
Him into a hog-sty charmed. 

There, when she had him shut fast, 
With brimstone and with nitre 

She sing'd the claws 

Of his left paws, 
"With tip of his tail, and his right ear 

And with her charms and ointments 
She made him tame as a spaniel ; 
For she us'd to ride 
On his back astride. 
Nor did he do her any ill. 

But, to the admiration 
Of all both far and near, 

He hath been shown 

In every town, 
And eke in every shire. 

And now, at length, he 's brought 
Unto fair London city. 
Where in Fleet-street 
All those may see 't 
That will not believe my ditty. 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 237 

God save the King and Parliament,* 
And eke the Prince's highness, 
And quickly send 
The wars an end. 
As here my song has — Finis. 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. : 

All men's intrigues and projects tend, 
By sev'ral courses, to one end ; 
To compass, by the prop'rest shows. 
Whatever their designs propose ; 
And that which owns the fair'st pretext 
Is often found the indirect'st. 
Hence 'tis that hypocrites stiU paint 
Much fairer than the real saint, 

* From this circumstance it appears, that this Ballad was 
wrote before the murder of the king, and that it is the earUest 
performance of Butler's that has yet been made public. 

t Tliis, and the other little Sketches that follow, were, 
among many of the same kind, fairly written out by Butler, 
in a sort of poetical Thesaurus. Out of this magazine he com- 
municated to ]VIr. Aubrey that genuine fragment printed in his 
life, beginning. 

No Jesuit e'er took in hand 
To plant a church in barren land. 
Nor ever thought it worth the while 
A Swede or Russ to reconcile, &c. 



298 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

And knaves appear more just and true 
Than honest men, that make less shew j 
The dullest idiots in disguise 
Appear more knowing than the wise ; 
Illiterate dunces, undiscern'd. 
Pass on the rabble for the learn'd ; 
And cowards, that can damn and rant, 
Pass muster for the valiant : 
For he that has but impudence, 
To all things has a just pretence, 
And, put among his wants but shame, 
To all the world may lay his claim. 

How various and innumerable 
Are those who live upon the rabble ! 
'Tis they maintain the church and state, 
Employ the priest and magistrate ; 
Bear all the charge of government, 
And pay the public fines and rent ; 
Defray all taxes and excises, 
And impositions of all prices ; 
Bear all the expense of peace and war, 
And pay the pulpit and the bar ; 
Maintain all churches and religions. 
And give their pastors exhibitions. 
And those who have the greatest flocks 
Are primitive and orthodox ; 
Support all schismatics and sects, 
And pay them for tormenting texts ; 
Take all their doctrines off" their hands, 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 299 

And paj them in good rents and lands ; 

Discharge all costly offices, 

The doctor's and the lawyer's fees, 

The hangman's wages, and the scores 

Of caterpillar bawds and whores ; 

Discharge all damages and costs 

Of Knights and Squires of the Post ; 

All statesmen, cut-purses, and padders, 

And pay for all their ropes and ladders ; 

All pettifoggers, and all sorts 

Of markets, churches, and of courts ; 

All sums of money paid or spent. 

With all the charges incident. 

Laid out, or thrown away, or giv'n 

To purchase this world, hell, or heav'n. 

Should once the world resolve t' abolish 

All that 's ridiculous and foolish, 

It would have nothing left to do, 

T' apply in jest or earnest to, 

No business of importance, play, 

Or state, to pass its time away. 

The world would be more just, if truth and 

lies, 
And right and wrong, did bear an equal price ; 
But, since impostors are so highly rais'd. 
And faith and justice equally debas'd. 
Few men have tempers for such paltry gains 
T' undo themselves with drudgery and pains. 



300 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

The sottish world without distinction looks 
On all that passes on th' account of books ; 
And, when there are two scholars that within 
The species only hardly are a-kin, 
The world will pass for men of equal knowledge, 
If equally they 'ave loiter'd in a college. 

Critics are hke a kind of flies that breed 

In wild fig-trees, and, when they 're grown up, feed 

Upon the raw fruit of the nobler kind. 

And, by their nibbling on the outward rind, 

Open the pores, and make way for the sun 

To ripen it sooner than he would have done. 

As all Fanatics preach, so all men write, 
Out of the strength of gifts and inward light, 
In spite of art ; as horses thorough pac'd 
Were never taught, and therefore go more fasL 

In all mistakes the strict and regular 
Are found to be the desp'rat'st ways to err, 
And worst to be avoided ; as a wound 
Is said to be the harder cur'd that 's round ; 
For error and mistake, the less th' appear, 
In th' end are found to be the dangerouser; 
As no man minds those clocks that use to go 
Apparently too over-fast or slow. 

The truest characters of ignorance 
Are vanity, and pride, and arrogance; 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 301 

Ajs blind men use to bear their noses higher 
Than those that have their eyes and sight entire. 

The metaphjsic 's but a puppet motion 
That goes with screws, the notion of a notion ; 
The copy of a copy, and lame draught 
Unnaturally taken from a thought ; 
That counterfeits all pantomimic tricks. 
And turns the eyes like an old crucifix ; 
That counterchanges whatsoe'er it calls 
B' another name, and makes it true or false ; 
Turns truth to falsehood, falsehood into truth, 
By virtue of the Babylonian's tooth. 

'Tis not the art of schools to understand, 

But make things hard, instead of b'ing explain'd ; 

And therefore those are commonly the learned'st 

That only study between jest and earnest : 

For, when the end of learning 's to pursue 

And trace the subtle steps of false and true, 

They ne'er consider how they 're to apply. 

But only listen to the noise and cry. 

And are so much delighted with the chase. 

They never mind the taking of their preys. 

More proselytes and converts use t' accrue 
To false persuasions than the right and true ; 
For error and mistake are infinite, 
But truth has but one way to be i' th' right ; 
As numbers may t' infinity be grown, 
But never be reduc'd to less than one. 



302 MISCELLAXEOUS THOUGHTS. 

All wit and fancy, like a diamond, 
The more exact and curious 'tis ground, 
Is forc'd for every carat to abate 
As much in value as it wants in weight. 

The great St. Lewis, king of France, 

Fighting against Mahometans, 

In Egypt, in the holy war, 

Was routed and made prisoner : 

The Sultan then, into whose hands 

He and his army fell, demands 

A thousand weight of gold, to free 

And set them all at Uberty. 

The king pays down one half o' th' nail. 

And for the other offers bail, 

The pyx, and in 't the eucharist. 

The body of our Saviour Christ. 

The Turk consider'd, and allow'd 

The king's security for good : 

Such credit had the Christian zeal, 

In those days, with an Infidel, 

That will not pass for two-pence now, 

Among themselves, 't is grown so low. 

Those that go up-hill use to bow 

Their bodies forward, and stoop low. 

To poise themselves, and sometimes creep, 

When th' way is difficult and steep : 

So those at court, that do address 

By low ignoble offices. 

Can stoop to any thing that 'e base, 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. o( 

To wriggle into trust and grace, 
Are like to rise to greatness sooner 
Than those that go by worth and honour. 

All acts of grace, and pardon, and oblivion, 
Are meant of services that are forgiven, 
And not of crimes delinquents have committed. 
And rather been rewarded than acquitted. 

Lions are kings of beasts, and yet their pow'r 
Is not to rule and govern, but devour : 
Such savage kings all tyrants are, and they 
No better than mere beasts that do obey. 

Nothing 's more dull and negligent 
Than an old lazy government. 
That knows no interest of state, 
But such as serves a present strait. 
And, to patch up, or shift, will close, 
Or break alike with friends or foes ; 
That runs behind-hand, and has spent 
Its credit to the last extent ; 
And, the first time 't is at a loss, 
Has not one true friend nor one cross. 

The Devil was the first o' th' name 
From whom the race of rebels came. 
Who was the first bold undertaker 
Of bearing arms against his Maker, 
And, though miscarrying in th' event, 
Was never yet known to repent 



804 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

Though tumbled from the top of bliss 

Down to the bottomless abyss ; 

A property which, from their prince, 

The family orwns ever since, 

And therefore ne'er repent the evil 

They do or suffer, like the devil. 

The worst of rebels never arm 
To do their king or country harm, 
But draw their swords to do them good. 
As doctors cure by letting blood. 

No seared conscience is so fell 

As that which has been burnt with zeal ; 

For Christian charity *s as well 

A great impediment to zeal, 

As zeal a pestilent disease 

To Christian charity and peace. 

As thistles wear the softest down, 
To hide their prickles till they 're grown. 
And then declare themselves, and tear 
Whatever ventures to come near ; 
So a smooth knave does greater feats 
I'han one that idly rails and threats, 
And all the mischief that he meant 
Does, like a rattle-snake, prevent. 

Man is supreme lord and master 
Of his own ruin and disaster ; 
Controls his fate, but nothing less 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 305 

In ordering his own happiness ; 

For all his care and providence 

Is too, too feeble a defence 

To render it secure and certain 

Against the injuries of Fortune ; 

And oft, in spite of all his wit, 

Is lost with one unlucky hit. 

And ruin'd with a circumstance, * 

And mere punctilio, of chance. 

Dame Fortune, some men's tutelar. 
Takes charge of them without their care, 
Does all their drudgery and work. 
Like Fairies, for them in the dark ; 
Conducts them blindfold, and advances 
The naturals by blinder chances ; 
While others by desert or wit 
Could never make the matter hit, 
But still, the better they deserve. 
Are but the abler thought to starve. 

Great wits have only been preferred, 
In princes' trains to be interr'd, 
A.nd, when they cost them nothing, plac'd 
Among their followers not the last ; 
But while they Hv'd were far enough 
From all admittances kept off. 

As gold, that 's proof against th' assay, 
tTpon the touchstone wears away, 
VOL. II. 20 



S06 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS- 

And having stood the greater test, 
Is overmaster'd bj the least ; 
So some men, having stood the hate 
And spiteful cruelty of Fate, 
Transported with a false caress 
Of unacquainted happiness, 
Lost to humanity and sense, 
Have fall'n as low as insolence. 

Innocence is a defence 
For nothing else but patience ; 
'Twill not bear out the blows of Fate, 
Nor fence against the tricks of state ; 
Nor from th' oppression of the laws 
Protect the plain'st and justest cause ; 
Nor keep unspotted a good name 
Against the obloquies of Fame ; 
Feeble as Patience, and as soon, 
By being blown upon, undone. 
As beasts are hunted for their furs, 
Men for their virtues fare the worse. 

Who doth not know with what fierce rage 
Opinions, true or false, engage ? 
And, 'cause they govern all mankind, 
Like the blind's leading of the blind, 
.yi claim an equal interest, 
^jid free dominion o'er the rest. 
And, as one shield that fell from heaven 
Was counterfeited by eleven, 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 307 

The better to secure the fate 

And lasting empire of a state, 

The false are num'rous, and the true, 

That onlj have the right, but few. 

Hence fools, that understand them least, 

Are still the fiercest in contest; 

Uns^ght unseen, espouse a side 

At random, hke a prince's bride. 

To damn their souls, and swear and lie for, 

And at a venture live and die for. 

Opinion governs all mankind. 
Like the blind's leading of the blind ; 
For he that has no eyes in 's head, 
Must be bj' a dog glad to be led; 
And no beasts have so little in them, 
As that inhuman brute. Opinion : 
'Tis an infectious pestilence. 
The tokens upon wit and sense 
That with a venomous contagion 
Invades the sick imagination ; 
And, when.it seizes any part, 
It strikes the poison to the heart. 
This men of one another catch 
By contact, as the humours match ; 
And nothing 's so perverse in nature 
As a profound opiniator. 

Authority intoxicates, 

And makes mere sots of magistrates; 



S08 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

Tlie fumes of it invade the brain, 
And make men gidd j, proud, and vain : 
By this the fool commands the wise, 
The noble with the base complies, 
The sot assumes the rule of wit, 
And cowards make the brave submit. 

A GODLY man, that has serv'd out his time 
In holiness, may set up any crime ; 
As scholars, when they Ve taken their degrees, 
May set up any faculty they please. 

"Why should not piety be made, 
As well as equity, a trade. 
And men get money by devotion. 
As well as making of a motion ? 
B' allow'd to pray upon conditions. 
As well as suitors in petitions ? 
And in a congregation pray, 
No less than Chancery, for pay ? 

A teacher's doctrine, and his proof 
Is all his province, and enough ; 
But is no more concern'd in use. 
Than shoemakers to wear all shoes. 

The soberest saints are more stiff-necked 
Than th' hottest-headed of the wicked. 

Hypocrisy will serve as well 
Co propagate a church as zeal ; 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 309 

As persecution and promotion 

Do equally advance devotion ; 

So round white stones will serve, they say, 

As well as eggs, to make hens lay. 

The greatest saints and sinners have been made 
Of proselytes of one another's trade. 

Your wise and cautious consciences 

Are free to take what course they please : 

Have plenary indulgence to dispose 

At pleasure, of the strictest vows ; 

And challenge Heaven, they made them to, 

To vouch and witness what they do ; 

And, when they prove averse and loath. 

Yet for convenience take an oath ; 

Not only can dispense, but make it 

A greater sin to keep than take it ; 

Can bind and loose all sorts of sin, 

And only keeps the keys within ; 

Has no superior to control. 

But what itself sets o'er the soul ; 

And, when it is enjoin'd t' obey, 

Is but confin'd, and keeps the key; 

Can walk invisible, and where. 

And when, and how, it will, appear ; 

Can turn itself into disguises 

Of all sorts, for all sorts of vices ; 

Can transubstantiate, metamorphose, 

And charm whole herds of beasts, like Orpheus ; 



310 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

Make woods, and tenements, and lands, 

Obey and follow its commands, 

And settle on a new freehold, 

As Marcly-hill remov'd of old ; 

Make mountains move with greater force 

Than faith, to new proprietors ; 

And perjures, to secure th' enjoyments 

Of public charges and employments ; 

For true and faithful, good and just, 

Are but preparatives to trust ; 

The gilt and ornament of things, 

And not their movements, wheels, and springs. 

All love, at first, like generous wine. 
Ferments and frets until 'tis fine ; 
But, when 'tis settled on the lee, 
And from th' impurer matter free. 
Becomes the richer still the older. 
And proves the pleasanter the colder. 

The motions of the earth or sun 
(The Lord knows which), that turn, or run, 
Are both perform'd by fits and starts. 
And so are those of lovers' hearts ; 
Which, though they keep no even pace, 
Move true and constant to one place. 

Love is too great a happiness 
For wretched mortals to possess ; 
For, could it hold inviolate 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 311 

A^gaiust those cruelties of Fate 
Which all felicities below 
By rigid laws are subject to, 
It would become a bliss too high 
For perishing mortality, 
Translate to earth the joys above ; 
For nothing goes to heaven but love. 

4.LL wild but generous creatures live, of course, 

As if they had agreed for better or worse : 

The lion 's constant to his only miss, 

And never leaves his faithful honess ; 

And she as chaste and true to him agen, 

As virtuous ladies use to be to men. 

The docile and ingenuous elephant 

T' his own and only female is gallant ; 

And she as true and constant to his bed, 

That first enjoy'd her single maidenhead ; 

But paltry rams, and bulls, and goats, and boars. 

Are never satisfy'd with new amours ; 

As all poltroons with us dehght to range. 

And, though but for the worst of all, to change. 

The souls of women are so small. 

That some beHeve they Ve none at all ; 

Or if they have, like cripples, still 

They 'ave but one faculty, the will ; 

The other two are quite laid by 

To make up one great tyranny ; 

And, though their passions have most pow'r, 



312 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

Tliej are, like Turks, but slaves the more 

To th' absolute will, that with a breath 

Has sovereign power of life and death, 

And, as its little interests move, 

Can turn them all to hate or love ; 

For nothing, in a moment, turn 

To frantic love, disdain, and scorn ; 

And make that love degenerate 

T' as great extremity of hate ; 

And hate again, and scorn, and piques, 

To flames, and raptures, and love-tricks. 

All sorts of votaries, that profess 
To bind themselves apprentices 
To Heaven, abjure, with solemn vows, 
Not Cut and Long-tail, but a spouse, 
As th' worst of aU impediments 
To hinder their devout intents. 

Most virgins marry, just as nuns 
The same thing the same way renounce; 
Before they 'ave wit to understand 
The bold attempt they take in hand ; 
Or, having staid and lost their tides. 
Are out of season grown for brides. 

The credit of the marriage-bed 
Has been so loosely husbanded, 
Men only deal for ready money. 
And women, separate aUmony ; 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. BIB 

And la lies-errant, for debauching, 
Have better terms, and equal caution ; 
And, for their journey-work and pains, 
The chair-women clear greater gains. 

As wine that with its own weight runs is best, 
And counted much more noble than the prest ; 
So is that poetry whose generous strains 
Flow without servile study, art, or pains. 

Some call it fury, some a Muse, 
That, as possessing devils use. 
Haunts and forsakes a man by fits. 
And when he 's in, he 's out of 's wits. 

All writers, though of different fancies, 
Do make all people in romances. 
That are distress'd and discontent. 
Make songs, and sing t' an instrument 
And poets by their sufferings grow ; 
As if there were no more to do, 
To make a poet excellent. 
But only want and discontent. 

*r is not poetry that makes men poor ; 
For few do write that were not so before. 
And those that have writ best, had they been rich 
Had ne'er been clapp'd with a poetic itch ; 
Had lov'd their ease too well to take the pains 
To undergo that drudgery of brains ; 



314 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

But, being for all other trades unfit, 
Only to avoid being idle, set up wit. 

They that do write in authors' praises, 

And freely give their friends their voices^ 

Are not confin'd to what is true ; 

That 's not to give, but pay a due : 

For praise, that 's due, does give no more 

To worth than what it had before ; 

But to commend, without desert, 

Requires a mastery of art, 

That sets a gloss on what 's amiss, 

And writes what should be, not what is. 

In foreign universities. 

When a king 's born, or weds, or dies. 

Straight other studies are laid by. 

And all apply to poetry : 

Some write in Hebrew, some in Greek, 

And some, more wise, in Arabic, 

T' avoid the critic, and th' expense 

Of difficulter wit and sense ; 

And seem more learnedish than those 

That at a greater charge compose. 

The doctors lead, the students follow ; 

Some call him Mars, and some Apollo, 

Some Jupiter, and give him th' odds. 

On even terms, of all the gods : 

Then Csesar he 's nicknam'd, as duly as 

He that in Rome was christen'd Julius, 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 315 

And was address'd to, by a crow, 

As pertinently long ago ; 

And with more horses' names is styl'd, 

Than saints are clubb'd t' an Austrian child ; 

And, as wit goes by colleges, 

As well as standing and degrees. 

He stiU writes better than the rest, 

That 's of the house that 's counted best. 

Far greater numbers have been lost by hopes, 
Than all the magazines of daggers, ropes, 
And other ammunitions of despair. 
Were ever able to dispatch by fear. 

There 's nothing our felicities endears 

Like that which falls among our doubts and fears, 

AjQd in the miserablest of distress 

Improves attempts as desperate with success ; 

Success, that owns and justifies all quarrels, 

And vindicates deserts of hemp with laurels ; 

Or, but miscarrying in the bold attempt. 

Turns wreaths of laurel back again to hemp. 

The people have as much a negative voice 
To hinder making war without thoir choice, 
As kings of making laws in parhament ; 
"No money" is as good as "No assent.'* 

When princes idly lead about, 
Those of their party foUow suit, 



SiG MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

Till others trump upon their play, 
And turn the cards another waj. 

"What makes all subjects discontent 
Against a prince's government, 
And princes take as great offence 
At subjects' disobedience. 
That neither th' other can abide, 
But too much reason on each side ? 

Authority is a disease and cure, 

"Which men can neither want nor well endure. 

Dame Justice puts her sword into the scales, 
With which she *s said to weigh out true and falser 
"With no design but, like the antique Gaul, 
To get more money from the capital. 

All that which law and equity miscalls 
By th' empty idle names of True and False, 
Is nothing else but maggots blown between 
False witnesses and falser jurymen. 

No court allows those partial interlopers 

Of Law and Equity,, two single paupers, 

T' encounter hand to hand at bars, and trounce 

Each other gratis in a suit at once : 

For one at one time, and upon free cost, is 

Enough to play the knave and fool with justice ; 

And, when the one side bringeth custom in, 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 317 

And tV other lays out half the reckoning, 
The devil himself will rather choose to play 
At paltry small game, than sit out, they say ; 
But when^t aU there 's nothing to be got. 
The old wife, Law and Justice, will not trot. 

The law, that makes more knaves than e'er it 

hung, 
Little considers right or wrong ; 
But, like authority, 's soon satisfy'd, 
When 'tis to judge on its own side. 

The law can take a purse in open court, 
Whilst it condemns a less delinquent for 't. 

Who can deserve for breaking of the laws, 
A greater penance than an honest cause ? 

All those that do but rob and steal enough. 
Are punishment and court of justice proof. 
And need not fear, nor be concern'd a straw, 
In all the idle bugbears of the law. 
But confidently rob the gallows too. 
As well as other sufferers, of their due. 

Old laws have not been suffer'd to be pointed, 
To leave the sense at large the more disjointed, 
And furnish lawyers, with the greater ease. 
To turn and wind them any way they please. 
The Statute Law 's their Scripture, and Reports 



318 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

The ancient reverend fathers of their courts ; 
Records their general councils ; and Decisions 
Of judges on the bench their sole traditions, 
For which, like CathoUcs, they Ve greater awe 
As th' arbitrary and unwritten law, 
And strive perpetually to make the standard 
Of right between the tenant and the landlord ; 
And, when two cases at a trial meet, 
That, like indentures, jump exactly fit, 
And all the points, like Chequer-tallies, suit, 
The Court directs the obstinat'st dispute : 
There 's no decorum us'd of time, nor place, 
Nor quahty, nor person, in the case. 

A MAN of quick and active wit 
For drudgery is more unfit, 
Compar'd to those of duller parts, 
Than running-nags to draw in carts. 

Too much or too little wit 
Do only render th' owners fit 
For nothing, but to be undone 
Much easier than if they 'ad none. 

As those that are stark blind can trace 
The nearest ways from place to place. 
And find the right way easier out. 
Than those that hood-wink'd try to do 't , 
t?o tricks of state are manag'd best 
By those that are suspected least, 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 319 

And greatest finesse brought about 
By engines most unlike to do *U 

All the politics of the great 
Are like the cunning of a cheat, 
That lets his false dice freely run, 
And trusts them to themselves alone, 
But never lets a true one stir 
Without some fing'ring trick or slur ; 
And, when the gamesters doubt his plaj^ 
Conveys his false dice safe away, 
And leaves the true ones in the lurch, 
T' endure the torture of the search. 

What else does history use to tell us, 

But tales of subjects being rebellious ; 

The vain perfidiousness of lords, 

And fatal breach of princes' words ; 

The sottish pride and insolence 

Of statesmen, and their want of sense ; 

Their treach'ry, that undoes, of custom. 

Their own selves first, next those who trust them? 

Because a feeble limb 's carest. 

And more indulg'd than all the rest. 

So frail and tender consciences 

Are humour'd to do what they please ; 

When that which goes for weak and feeble 

Is found the most incorrigible. 

To outdo all the fiends in hell 

With rapine, murder, blood, and zeal. 



iJ^U MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

As at the approach of winter all 
The leaves of great trees use to fall, 
And leave them naked to engage 
With storms and tempests when they rage, 
While humbler plants are found to wear 
Their fresh green liv'ries all the year ; 
So when the glorious season 's gone 
With great men, and hard times come on. 
The great'st calamities oppress 
The greatest still, and spare the less. 

As when a greedy raven sees 

A shc-^^ ^ntflncrled by the fleece, 

With hasty cruelt}' x.o !'*'^« 

T' attack him, and pick out his eyes ; 

So do those vultures use, that keep 

Poor pris'ners fast like silly sheep. 

As greedily to prey on all 

That in their rav'nous clutches fall ; 

For thorns and brambles, that came in 

To wait upon the curse for sin. 

And were no part o' the first creation, 

But, for revenge, a new plantation, 

Are yet the fitt'st materials 

T' enclose the earth with living walls : 

So jailors, that are most accurst, 

^e fo'ind most fit in being worst. 

There needs no other charm, nor conjurer. 
To raise infernal spirits up, but fear; 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 821 

Thai makes men pull their horns in like a snail, 
That 's both a pris'ner to itself, and jail; 
Draws more fantastic shapes than in the grains 
Of knotted wood in some men's crazy brains, 
When all the cocks they think they see, and bulls, 
Are only in the insides of their sculls. 

The Roman Mufti, with his triple crown, 

Does both the earth, and hell, and heaven, own, 

Beside th' imaginary territory, 

He lays a title to in Purgatory ; 

Declares himself an absolute free prince 

In his dominions, only over sins ; 

But as for heaven, since it lies so far 

Above him, is but only titular, 

And, like his Cross-keys badge upon a tavern, 

Has nothing there to tempt, command, or govern 

Yet, when he comes to take accompt, and share 

The profit of his prostituted ware. 

He finds his gains increase, by sin and women. 

Above his richest titular dominion. 

A JUBILEE is but a spiritual fair, 
T' expose to sale all sorts of impious ware, 
Li which his Holiness buys nothing in. 
To stock his magazines, but deadly sin ; 
And deals in extraordinary crimes, 
That are not vendible at other times ; 
For, dealing both for Judas and th' high priest, 
He makes a plentifuller trade of Christ. 
■*^OL. n. 21 



322 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

That sp'ritual pattern of the church, the ark, 
In which the ancient world did once embark. 
Had ne'er a hehn in 't to direct its way, 
Although bound through an universal sea ; 
When all the modern church of Rome's coi\cern 
Is nothing else but in the helm and stern. 

In the church of Rome to go to shrift. 
Is but to put the soul on a clean shift. 

An ass will with his long ears fray 
The flies, that tickle him, away ; 
But man delights to have his ears 
Blown maggots in by flatterers. 

All wit does but divert men from the road 
In which things vulgarly are understood, 
And force Mistake and Ignorance to own 
A better sense than commonly is known. 

In little trades more cheats and lying 
Are us'd in selling than in buying ; 
But in the great, unjuster dealing 
Is us'd in buying than in selling. 

All smatt'rers are more brisk and pert 
Than those that understand an art : 
As little sparkles shine more bright 
Than glowing coals, that give them light. 



323 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

Law does not put the least restraint 

Upon our freedom, but maintain 't ; 

Or if it does, 'tis for our good, 

To give us freer latitude : 

For wholesome laws preserve us free, 

By stinting of our liberty. 

The world has long endeavour'd to reduce 
Those things to practice that are of no use, 
And strives to practise things of speculation, 
And bring the practical to contemplation, 
And by that error renders both in vain, 
By forcing Nature's course against the grain 

In all the world there is no vice 
Less prone t' excess than avarice; 
It neither cares for food nor clothing ; 
Nature 's content with little, that with nothing. 

In Rome no temple was so low 
As that of Honour, built to show 
How humble honour ought to be. 
Though there 'twas all authority. 

It is a harder thing for men to rate 

Their own parts at an equal estimate. 

Than cast up fractions, in th' accompt of heav*n, 

Of time and motion, and adjust them ev'n ; 

For modest persons never had a true 

li*articular of all that is their due. 



S24 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

Some people's fortunes, like a weft or stray^ 
Are only gain'd by losing of their way. 

As he that makes his mark is understood 
To write his name, and 'tis in law as good ; 
So he that cannot write one word of sense. 
Believes he has as legal a pretence, 
To scribble what he does not understand, 
As idiots have a title to their land. 

Were TuUy now alive, he 'd be to seek 
In all our Latin terms of art and Greek ; 
Would never understand one word of sense 
The most irrefragable schoolman means ; 
As if the schools design'd their terms of art 
Not to advance a science, but divert ; 
As Hocus Pocus conjures, to amuse 
The rabble from observing what he does. 



o 



As 'tis a greater mystery, in the art 
Of painting, to foreshorten any part 
Than draw it out, so 'tis in books the chief 
Of all perfections to be plain and brief. 

The man that for his profit 's brought t' obey, 
Is only hir'd, on liking, to betray ; 
And, w,hen lie 's bid a liberaller price. 
Will not be sluggish in the work, nor nice. 

OriNiATORS naturally differ 

From other men ; as wooden legs are stiffer 



MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS 325 

Than those of pliant joints, to yield and bow, 
\Yhich way soe'er they arc design'd to go. 

Navigation, that withstood 
The mortal fury of the Flood, 
And prov'd the only means to save 
All earthly creatures from the wave, 
Has, for it, taught the sea and wind 
To lay a tribute on mankind. 
That, by degrees, has swallow'd more 
Than all it drown'd at once before. 

The prince of Syracuse, whose destin'd fate 
It was to keep a school and rule a state, 
Found that his sceptre never was so aw'd, 
As when it was translated to a rod ; 
And that his subjects ne'er were so obedient, 
As when he was inaugurated pedant : 
For to instruct is greater than to rule. 
And no command 's so' imperious as a school. 

As he whose destiny does prove 
To dangle in the air above. 
Does lose his life for want of air, 
That only fell to be his share ; 
So he whom Fate at once design'd 
To plenty and a wretched mind, 
Is but condemn'd t' a rich distress, 
^Lnd starves with niggardly excess. 



326 MISCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. 

The universal med'cine is a trick, 

That Nature never meant to cure the sick, 

Unless by death, the singular receipt. 

To root out all diseases by the great : 

For universals deal in no one part 

Of Nature, nor particulars of Art ; 

And therefore that French quack that set v\. 

physic, 
Call'd his receipt a General Specific. 
For though in mortal poisons every one 
Is mortal universally alone, 
Yet Nature never made an antidote 
To cure them all as easy as they 're got t 
Much less, among so many variations 
Of diff'rent maladies and complications, 
Make all the contrarieties in Nature 
Submit themselves t' an equal moderator. 

A CONVERT 's but a fly, that turns about, 
After his head 's pull'd off, to find it out. 

All mankind is but a rabble 

As silly and unreasonable 

As those that, crowding in the street, 

To see a show or monster meet ; 

Of whom no one is in the right. 

Yet all fall out about the sight, 

And when they chance t' agree, the choice is 

Still ip the most and worst of vices ; 



ailSCELLANEOUS THOUGHTS. o21 

And all the reasons that prevail 

Are measur'd, not bj weight, but tale. 

As in all great and crowded fairs 
Monsters and puppet-plays are wares, 
Which in the less will not go oif, 
l^ecause they have not money enough ; 
So men in princes' courts will pass, 
That will not in another place. 

Logicians use to clap a proposition, 

As justices do criminals, in prison, 

And in as learn'd authentic nonsense writ 

The names of all their moods and figures fit : 

For a logician 's one that has been broke 

To ride and pace his reason by the book, 

And by their rules, and precepts, and examples, 

To put his wits into a kind of trammels. 

Those get the least that take the greatest pains, 
But most of all i' the drudgery of brains ; 
A nat'ral sign of weakness, as an ant 
Is more laborious than an elephant ; 
Ajid children are more busy at their play 
Than those that wisely'st pass their time away. 

All the inventions that the world contains. 
Were not by reason first found out, nor brains ; 
But pass for theirs who had the luck to light 
Upon them by mistake or oversight. 



32ri DESCRIPTION OF HOLLAND. 



TRIPLETS UPON AVATIICB. 

As misers their own laws enjoin 
To wear no pockets in the mine, 
For fear they should the ore purloin ; 

So he that toils and labours hard 
To gain, and what he gets has spar'd, 
Is from the use of all debarr'd. 

And though he can produce more spankers 
Than all the usurers and bankers, 
Yet after more and more he hankers; 

And after all his pains are done, 
Has nothing he can call his own, 
But a mere livelihood alone. 



DESCRIPTION OF HOLLAND. 

A COUNTRY that draws fifty foot of watei^ 
In which men live as in the hold of Nature, 
And when the sea does in upon them break, 
And drowns a province, does but spring a leak j 



TO HIS MISTRESS. 32^ 

That always ply the pump, and never think 
They can be safe, but at the rate they stink ; 
That live as if they had been run aground, 
And, when they die, are cast away, and drown'd ; 
That dwell in ships, like swarms of rats, and prey 
Upon the goods all nations' fleets convey ; 
And, when their merchants are blown up and 

crackt. 
Whole towns are cast away in storms, and wreckt 5 
That feed, Hke Cannibals, on other fishes. 
And serve their cousin-germans up in dishes : 
A land that rides at anchor, and is moor'd, 
In which they do not live, but go aboard. 



TO HIS MISTRESS. 

Do not unjustly blame 

My guiltless breast, 
For vent'ring to disclose a flame 

It had so long supprest. 

In its own ashes it desiffn'd 

For ever to have lain ; 
But that my sighs, like blasts of wind, 

Made it break out again. 



330 EPIGRAM ON A CLUB OF SOTS. 



TO THE SAME. 

Do not mine affections slight, 

'Cause my locks with age are white : 

Your breasts have snow without, and snow within. 

While flames of fire in your bright eyes are seen. 



EPIGRAM ON A CLUB OF SOTS. 

The jolly members of a toping club, 
Like pipe-staves, are but hoop'd into a tub, 
And in a close confederacy link, 
For nothing else but only to hold drink. 



HUDIBRAS'S ELEGY.* 

In days of yore, when knight or squire 
By Fate were summon'd to retire, 

* As neither this Elegy, nor the following Epitaph, is to 
bs found in the ' Genuine Remains ' of Butler, as published 
by Mr. Thyer from the manuscripts in the possession of the 
kte William Longueville, Esq., they appear to have been re 



HUDIBRAS'S ELEGY. 331 

Some menia] poet still was near, 

To bear them to the hemisphere, 

And there among the stars to leave them, 

Until the gods sent to relieve them : 

And sure our knight, whose very sight would 

Entitle him Mirror of Knighthood, 

Should he neglected lie, and rot. 

Stink in his grave, and be forgot, 

Would have just reason to complain, 
If he should chance to rise aofain : 
And therefore to prevent his dudgeon, 
In mournful dogg'rel thus we trudge on. 

Oh me ! what tongue, what pen can tell 
How this renowned champion fell ? 
But must reflect, alas ! alas ! 
All human glory fades like grass, 
And that the strongest martial feats 
Of errant knights are all but cheats ! 
Witness our Knight, who sure has done 
More valiant actions, ten to one. 
Than of More-Hall the mighty More, 
Or him that made the Dragon roar ; 



jected by the Editor, with a multitude of others, as being 
spurious; but as both have constantly made a part of the col- 
lection of poems frequently reprinted under the title of the 
'Posthumous Works of Samuel Butler,' and as they besides 
relate particularly to the hero of that poem whereon our 
Author's chiefest reputation is built, it is hoped the reader 
will not be displeased lo fihd them subjoined to these ' Genu 
ine Remains ' of the celebrated author of ' Hudibras.' 



332 HUDIBBAS'S ELEGY. 

Has knock'd more men and women dowjj^ 
Tlian Bevis of Southampton town ; 
Or than our modern heroes can, 
To take them singly man by man. 

No, sure the grisly King of terror 
Has been to blame, and in an error, 
To issue his dead-warrant forth 
To seize a knight of so much worth, 
Just in the nick of all his glory ; 
I tremble when I tell the story. 
Oh ! help me, help me, some kind Muse, 
This surly tyrant to abuse. 
Who, in his rage, has been so cruel 
To rob the world of such a jewel ! 
A knight more learned, stout, and good, 
Sure ne'er was made of flesh and blood ; 
All his perfections were so rare, 
The wit of man could not declare 
Which single virtue, or which grace, 
Above the rest had any place, 
Or which he was most famous for, 
The camp, the pulpit, or the bar; 
Of each he had an equal spice, 
And was in all so very nice. 
That, to speak truth, th' account it lost, 
In which he did excel the most. 
When he forsook the peaceful dwelling, 
And out he went a colonelling. 
Strange hopes and fears possest the nation, 
How he could manage that vocation. 



HUBIBRAS'S ELEGY. 333 

tin til he sliew'd it to a wonder. 



'5 



How noblj he could fight and plunder. 

At preaching too he was a dab, 

More exquisite by far than Squab ; 

He could fetch uses, and infer, 

Without the help of metaphor. 

From any Scripture text, howe*er 

Remote it from the purpose were ; 

And with his fist instead of a stick, 

Beat pulpit, drum ecclesiastic. 

Till he made all the audience weep. 

Excepting those that fell asleep. 

Then at the bar he was right able, 

And could bind o'er as well as swaddle • 

And famous too, at petty sessions, 

'Gainst thieves and whores for long digressicas. 

He could most learnedly determine 

To Bridewell, or the stocks, the vermin. 

For his address and way of living. 

All his behaviour was so moving. 

That let the dame be ne'er so chaste, 

As people say, below the waist. 

If Hudibras but once come at her. 

He 'd quickly make her chaps to water : 

Then for his equipage and shape, 

On vestals they 'd commit a rape. 

Which often, as the story says. 

Have made the ladies weep both ways. 

Ill has he read that never heard 

How he with Widow Tomson far'd, 



334 HUDIBRAS'S ELEGY. 

And what hard conflict was between 
Our Knight and that insulting quean. 
Sure captive knight ne'er took more pain 
For rhymes for his melodious strains, 
Nor beat his brains, or made more faces, 
To get into a jilt's good graces, 
Than did Sir Hudibras to get 
Into this subtle gypsy's net, 
Who, after all her high pretence 
To modesty and innocence. 
Was thought by most to be a woman 
That to all other knights was common. 

Hard was his fate in this I own, 
Nor will I for the trapes atone ; 
Indeed to guess I am not able. 
What made her thus inexorable, 
Unless she did not like his wit. 
Or, what is worse, his perquisite. 
Howe'er it was, the wound she gave 
The Knight, he carry'd to his grave : 
Vile harlot, to destroy a knight 
That could both plead, and pray, and fight 
Oh ! cruel, base, inhuman drab, 
To give him such a mortal stab, 
That made him pine away and moulder. 
As though that he had been no soldier : 
Couldst thou find no one else to kill. 
Thou instrument of death and hell. 
But Hudibras, who stood the Bears 
So oft against the Cavaliers, 



HDDIBRAS S EPITAPH. 335 

And in the very heat of war 
Took stout Crowdero prisoner; 
And did such wonders all along, 
That far exceed both pen and tongue i' 

If he had been in battle slain, 
We 'ad had less reason to complain ; 
But to be murder'd by a whore, 
Was ever knight so serv'd before ? 
But since he 's gone, all we can say 
He chanc'd to die a ling'ring way ; 
If he had liv'd a longer date, 
He might, perhaps, have met a fate 
More violent, and fitting for 
A knight so fam'd in Civil war. 
To sum up all — from love and danger 
He 's now (0 ! happy Knight) a strangei 
And if a Muse can aught foretell, 
His fame shall fill a chronicle, 
And he in after-ages be 
Of errant knights th' epitome. 



HUDIBRAS'S EPITAPH. 

Under this stone rests Hudibras, 
A Knight as errant as e'er was ; 
The controversy only lies, 
Whether he was more stout than wise ; 



3H6 HUDIBRAS'S EPITAPH. 

Nor can we here pretend to say, 

Whether he best could Jfight or pray ; 

So, till those questions are decided, 

His virtues must rest undivided. 

Full oft he suffer'd bangs and drubs, 

And full as oft took pains in tubs ; 

Of which the most that can be said. 

He pray'd and fought, and fought and pray'ci 

As for his personage and shape, 

Among the rest we '11 let them 'scape ; 

Nor do we, as things stand, think fit 

This stone should meddle with his wit. 

One thing, 'tis true, we ought to tell, 

He liv'd and died a colonel ; 

And for the Good Old Cause stood buff, 

'Gainst many a bitter kick and cuff. 

But since his Woi'ship 's dead and gone, 

And mould'ring lies beneath this stone, 

Tlie reader is desir'd to look 

For his achievements in his Book ; 

Which will preserve of Knight the Tale, 

Till Time and Death itself shall fail. 



THE END, 



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